by Karen Kay
No sooner had Anna registered what was happening than the phantomlike woman touched her, sending a sudden chill over Anna’s body.
Immediately, the ghostly dress encompassed Anna and she stood looking down at herself, enwrapped in the misty regalia. It fit her perfectly.
“Hova’ahane!” came War Cloud’s voice. And he roared, “You will not do this to us!”
But neither the image of the old woman nor that of the ancient man or the dress faded. Alas, all three shone with spectral light.
Anna clutched War Cloud. “What is happening?”
War Cloud did not answer.
Instead another voice spoke to them in a language foreign to Anna, using words she did not understand, yet words she comprehended all the same.
The ancient one uttered, “From this moment, until forever, neither of you need ever be alone again. For you are united now in body and in spirit. I say to you, my son, that wherever you go, so shall she go. Your tears, your fears, your happiness will be hers. And all her experiences, her woes, her sorrows and even her joys you will share. Know that you belong together. So be it.”
“Hova’ahane!” came War Cloud’s plea.
But it was useless. The images disappeared.
Gone, too, were the drums, the singers, the fire and the dancers.
In the aftermath of swirling mist and uncanny images, Anna turned curious eyes to War Cloud. She whispered, “Dare I ask what just happened?”
War Cloud turned to her with a heaviness in his stance that she recognized at once. He said, “Do you not know?”
“I am uncertain.”
“They married us, and in a traditional manner.”
Anna stared at him for the pulse of several moments, her expression changing from disbelief to indulgence. At last she uttered, “Good.”
“Good?” He spun away from her as though he dared not stay in her presence a moment longer. He trod back in the direction of their camp, his long legs carrying him quickly away from her. Over his shoulder he called, “You might as well have sanctioned your own death.”
She ran after him; she had no choice. “You will never make me believe in this curse, War Cloud, so do not try,” she said. “I am happy that at least your ancestors have thought to do the right thing.”
He swung around. “It is not the right thing! And I wish the spirits would let me live my own life.” He spun back in the direction of their camp without awaiting her reply.
She caught up with him easily, however, and reached out toward him, forcing him to stop and turn to look at her. She said, “Fine, live your own life. You did not say a word. They cannot make you marry me. We spoke no vows.”
His breathing was heavy as he watched her. All at once he pivoted away from her and held his arms up to the heavens as though, by his own actions, he could reverse the past few moments. He cried, “I do not recognize it! Do you hear me, my ancestors? We are not married!”
A fierce wind whipped at him, thrashing his hair behind his face. Her hair, too, blew in the wind, strands of it flogging her face so rapidly that she felt as though she stood in the midst of a whirlwind.
“I will defy you!” came War Cloud’s utterance.
Outstretching a hand toward him, she touched War Cloud and said, “It is over. It is all right. We do not have to recognize the pact. It is up to us, after all.”
Lowering his arms, he turned to her, and then it happened so quickly and so naturally, she could barely credit it.
He touched her, she grazed him with her fingertips, and they fell into one another, their bodies suddenly imprinted one against the other. The wind whipped up its worst against them. But they did not notice.
His arms had pulled her in so close, they shielded her, and she could feel every one of his taut muscles. She was aware, too, of the emotional quivering in his chest and she stood against him, utterly entranced with this man.
Though she might not agree with his reasoning, War Cloud protected her as no one else ever had. And she could not explain the closeness she felt to him at this moment, nor the forces that urged her to comfort him.
All she knew was that she needed to take away some of his pain, and her arms went around his neck.
“Shhh,” she said, as though she soothed one of the children, and she pulled his face down to hers, her lips raining kisses over his shoulders, up to his neck, his cheeks, while her hands stroked through the long mane of his hair.
“It’s over,” she said. “I promise that I will not hold you to it. Between us will be the bargain that we are unattached.”
She felt him nod; became aware of the strong grip of his arms around her.
Suddenly his hands ran up and down her spine and, as though he could stand it not one moment longer, he drew her to her knees, while he knelt in front of her. And even as he stole one kiss after another, his hands pushed the chemise from her shoulders.
A surge of fire swept through her. Oh, how she wanted this; how she wanted him.
“Love me, War Cloud, please,” she begged.
His lips found hers in one kiss after another. Soon, his tongue swept into her mouth, pressing, urging, taking her sweet response as though, with his tongue, he would give her all the loving she needed.
“Please,” she uttered. “Don’t leave me.”
“I will not,” he whispered huskily.
His hands stumbled over the ties of her dress, and reaching down, she helped him, her own fingers unsteady.
Soon she was bare to the waist. She began to rub her breasts up and down his chest as though she would dance with him in this way as well.
He muttered something deep in this throat while she formed little cries on her lips.
Suddenly she found the courage to place her hands over the smooth fabric of his breechcloth. She tugged, shocked to find the maleness of him falling into her hands.
Another groan from him sent her reeling out of her mind.
He said, “You are innocent and I should be careful.”
“No, do not be careful.”
He muttered, “I would have you enjoy this, too.”
She nodded as though she understood, although, in truth, she remained completely unaware of the significance of his words.
He said, “I cannot stop.”
“I do not want you to.”
Another moan sounded on the midnight air, but whether from him, from her or perhaps from the wind, she could not be certain.
He urged her legs apart and pulled her up onto him, his fingers touching her most private, most feminine spot.
A rush, not unlike a bolt of lightning, streamed through her and that same moistness that she had felt there at the juncture of her legs once before, seeped from her, welcoming him.
He said, “You are ready for me.”
She nodded, not understanding what he meant, but certain he spoke the truth. She felt as though she might explode. She said, “Please.”
Meanwhile his fingers were creating magic within her, sending flows of sensation up and down her body, and then he was positioning himself down there between her legs.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said.
He surged upwards with no more preparation and she cried out.
At her whimper, he stopped, while she kept herself still, fighting the urge to pull back, away from him.
He said, “The hurt cannot be helped the first time. If you move against me, it will make it better for you.”
“Move?” she asked.
“Twist and fidget against me. Do this until it starts to feel better.”
“But it will hurt worse, won’t it?”
“I promise that it will not.”
“You are sure?”
“I am certain.”
She wiggled a very tiny bit at first, experimenting. The pain was not so bad this time. She twisted then, moving upwards and then down.
A growl sounded from him.
She asked, “Do you like that?”
“Ve
ry much,” he returned, and she repeated the motion, eliciting the same response.
But if she thought she could control the pace of their lovemaking, she was sadly mistaken.
A few more twists and pulls and he suddenly drove himself higher, taking her with him.
He positioned her on the ground below him, though he continued to kneel before her. Grabbing her legs, he pulled them onto his shoulders, while he thrust urgently within her.
Sweet heaven, it felt good.
She stared up at him solemnly, and he gazed back at her in the same manner.
“I think I have waited for this all my life,” he ground out. “I do not remember wanting anything more.”
She could barely stand it. She felt as though she were burning up with fever and she strained against him as he drove into her over and over.
And then it took her by surprise. She hadn’t expected either pleasure or such intensity. Her whole body convulsed as pure bliss swept to every part of her.
But that wasn’t all. In the midst of this most powerful experience, he thrust himself into her deeper and deeper, and she watched in awe as he spilled his seed into her, his expression of pleasure more thrilling than any Kansas summer storm.
They danced in the rhythm of love over and over, moving against one another as spasms of belated rapture overtook them. At last, spent, he collapsed over her.
It was a time of warmth, a time of giving, and she wrapped her arms around him to pull him closer. And as she felt him slip into a curiously peaceful slumber, she realized that she was in deep trouble. Very big trouble.
For she had lied when she said she would try to keep from feeling affection for him. She loved this man. Heart and soul. Dear Lord, help her. She loved him.
Chapter Nineteen
Had it been a dream?
Dawn fell all about them, the first morning rays of light enveloping them in a soft world of pinks and silvers, misty dews and cloudy grays. Blackbirds and doves, meadowlarks and bobwhites welcomed in the day with their own special brand of cooing and songs while the dark-haired man and lighter-haired woman reclined on a hillside.
War Cloud had placed his buffalo robe between the ground and the two of them, a necessary protection from the moisture that clung to every blade of grass. Anna lay between his legs, his arms about her, the back of her head on his chest. Both stared toward the east and the beginnings of a spectacular sunrise.
Anna leisurely stretched out one of her hands to run her fingers down his arm. She felt his answering shiver and gloried in the lingering kiss he placed atop her head.
She had awakened in the middle of the night to find herself in War Cloud’s arms, both of them lying beneath the willow tree. Wondering if it had been real or merely a dream, she had related her strange experience to him.
War Cloud had simply smiled at her and made love to her over and over. It had been the most wonderful, the most natural, experience of her life.
With her ear pressed firmly on his chest, she listened to the beat of his heart, and she sighed, content in the moment.
She said, “What will we tell the children?”
“The truth,” he said. “One should never lie to a child or seek to hide the facts.”
“And what are the facts?” she asked.
He groaned and nuzzled his lips against her hair. “We will tell them that we will be going into the Dog Soldier camp,” he said, “and that there is great danger for them there. We’ll tell them that you and I are pretending to be married in order that we can protect them and that they are to pretend to be our children.”
“And you don’t think any of them might let it slip that these things are mere pretenses?”
“Hova’ahane, I do not. For knowing so little of the ways of the prairie, these children have been little trouble. Besides, they may be young, but they are not stupid.”
“Hmmm,” she said in agreement. “Is there anything else I should tell them?”
He nodded. “To stay close to me; to say nothing unless I tell them to and, once we reach camp and are settled, to stay within my lodge rather than run about the camp. In this way, they will not constantly remind the people that the great Cheyenne Dog Soldiers are sheltering a horde of white children.”
“And will we reach your camp today?”
He nodded again. “Already scouts have spotted us.”
She sat up in alarm, but he pulled her back to him, nestling her head once more against his chest. “I have seen the scouts on yonder hills since before sunrise. Had they wished us harm, it would have been done by now. Besides, seeing us as we are will heighten the illusion of the story we must tell.”
She inclined her head.
“I sent them a message that I am coming into camp.”
“You did? How?”
“With my robe,” he said. “There is a signal used to tell them not to approach, that I will be coming in.”
“There is?” she asked. “What is it?”
He drew his hands up, away from her, and with arms outstretched, demonstrated, saying, “Imagine that I hold the ends of the robe in each hand. I make this motion.” He brought his left hand to his right shoulder and then his right hand to his left shoulder, both arms ending in the same position. He repeated the motion and said, “This means do not approach.”
“And did they tell you anything in return?”
“Only an acknowledgment.”
“I see,” she said. “Do they know you will be bringing in twelve children, as well as me?”
“They know. News of your presence with me traveled with the war party, here to my people.”
“Oh, dear.” She squinted her eyes against the silvery rays of morning. “And did you also tell the scouts that we are married so that there will be no trouble?”
“No,” he responded. “The scouts were too far away to communicate more than a simple message. As I said before, seeing us together in this way is enough. Once we reach camp, I will tell the others that we are married. There is no need to do more. But know that it is a marriage of pretense. You understand?”
“I do.” She sucked in her breath and, after a moment, said, “I am scared.”
His arms tightened around her. “It is to be expected. Know that I am here with you.”
She hesitated before saying, “And do you think we will remain unharmed?”
“It is to be hoped.”
She debated asking her next question, finally voicing the inquiry after a slight hesitation. “Must we be in camp a long time?”
“Long enough to tell Tall Bull of the danger and to be polite to the others.”
“Tall Bull? Who is Tall Bull?”
“He is the leader of the Dog Soldier camp,” said War Cloud. “He is a wise and brave man, as well as a fair man.”
Anna fell silent until, after a while, she asked, “Before we go into camp, is there anything else you should tell me?”
“Hova’ahane, stay close to me.”
“I will.” She reflected for a moment on their evening together. It had been an incredible experience, and not even the otherworldliness of her dream could make it less. Leisurely, not realizing the backlash her next question was to have, she asked, “Is there anything else that you should tell me about the curse?”
He did not answer right away, and Anna, chancing a quick glance up at him, watched as early morning shadows splashed ethereal silhouettes across War Cloud’s features. It made it difficult to gauge his reaction, but she was certain she could feel his instantaneous frustration. Why?
He looked away from her, off toward the sunrise, and said, “There is much I should tell you.”
Suddenly he seemed so serious. Why? she wondered, but she only acknowledged, saying, “All right. If our lying together will make me a part of this, perhaps I should know as much about it as I can.”
He let his breath out in a deep sigh. “What would you like to know?” he asked.
Settling back against him, she gave it some thought and said, �
�Perhaps you could tell me if there is any way to break the spell.”
He inhaled slowly and paused for a second, at length answering, “It is said that an act of kindness will end it.”
“An act of kindness? That is all?”
He frowned. “It is not so easy. All of the men of my clan have tried to commit many acts of kindness upon womankind. It has not worked. The curse holds strong.”
“I see,” she said, falling temporarily silent. “Why upon womankind?”
“No one knows,” he replied. “When the curse first came about, it was uncertain it could be broken at all. Later a medicine man fixed it so that the power of the curse could be released at some unnamed time in the future, but none know how. All that is known is that it must be a completely unselfish act given for the good of womankind.”
“Hmmmm.” Despite the topic of their discussion, Anna felt like purring, so good did it feel to be held in this man’s arms. And she luxuriated in the touch of War Cloud’s naked chest against the thin fabric of her chemise. “Tell me,” she said, winding a lock of his hair around her fingertip. “When you agreed to help me with the children, is that why you yielded so readily?”
He nodded. “Perhaps.”
She frowned. “Were you only trying to break the spell, then?”
He drew his brows together and clenched his jaw, remaining silent. At some length, however, he said, “Do not fret. I promise that there was more to it. That first night on the prairie, Sky Falcon came to me and said that you were the one, that the time was near. I did not believe him, nor would I take his advice. I was going to bring you to the Sioux in the North, but when you seemed willing to give yourself to me, I decided that I would help you. It did not matter if you were the one to break the spell or not.”
“It didn’t? Why? Why did you decide to help me?”
He moaned. “Because you amused me.”
Amused him? Was that all he had felt for her? “Oh,” she said, unable to keep the note of distress from her voice. Had he not intimated at that time that he had desired her? Had that not been true?
But he must have sensed her anguish, for he kissed the tender part in her hair and brought up a hand to knead the muscles in her shoulders while he said, “Do not feel bad. You were white and I hated all whites. Even Sky Falcon could not persuade me to change my mind. You did. That I should agree to your plan was a great honor to you.”