War Cloud's Passion

by Karen Kay

  Like an arrow hitting its mark, War Cloud collided with a truth that should have been apparent to him for a long time. But it hadn’t been.

  She was beautiful. No matter Anna’s apparel, no matter her hair, no matter the color of her skin. This was the most beautiful woman War Cloud had ever known.

  How could he have been so stupid that he had not seen this before now? Her skin color, her race, nothing of that nature meant anything.

  Certainly he desired her; certainly he had experienced lust with her. But all along, his interest in her had been more than these things. He had simply been unaware of it.

  He loved her. He loved Nahkohe-tseske.

  He groaned. When had it happened? When had this woman become so valuable to him that he would risk anything to see her happy? And when had he stopped thinking of her as a white person and fallen in love with her?

  Had it been from the start? That first time she had dared to shield her young charges? Challenging him and his warriors to do their worst?

  War Cloud thought back to the raw, eager feelings he had experienced with her, when they had been out there on the trail. Had it really been lust he had felt all those weeks ago? Or had he simply wanted, as nature had intended him to want, the woman he loved and admired with all his heart?

  He loved her. Love, simple and strong.

  He felt joy with the realization. He felt elation. And yet he despaired. It was going to be the hardest thing he would ever have to do to walk away from her. And he must walk away.

  He groaned. How would he ever do it?

  By not letting her know. That was how he would do it. He would admire her; he would love her and he would let her go, when the time was right.

  But he would not think of these things at the present moment. That time was distant. Now, as he stared across the camp’s makeshift dance floor, he knew what he was going to do.

  And the white people could be damned if they did not like it.

  This was his woman and right now she hurt.

  The fiddle had begun a waltz, and Anna swayed to the three-quarter beat, closing her eyes. Lost in her own dreamworld, she barely registered the fact that the laughing voices had gradually silenced.

  Opening her eyes, she still did not perceive the cause for it until the reason was almost upon her. And then she stared out across the dance floor, straight into the deepest set of dark eyes that she had ever seen.

  War Cloud approached her.

  He was not going to ask her to dance, was he? He could not. Did he not realize the infamy that such an action would cause?

  But as he took one deliberate step after another toward her, she began to realize that she simply did not care about scandals or about what these people might think of her. She had not braved a train attack, a Pawnee fight and a raging river to worry about the petty prejudices of a people who should know better. Who were these people to judge her?

  And the music so filled her soul.

  He did not say a thing as he stepped up to her. He simply held out his hand. And she took it, smiling at him.

  No words were spoken between them. None were necessary.

  She fell into his arms. As she expected, silence prevailed as they paced onto the dance floor. But these two were beyond censure, for the music had not stopped playing.

  One step followed upon another, and together War Cloud and Anna were soon swaying to the bewitching rhythm of three-quarter time. She stared up into his eyes, he down at her; her gaze was grateful, his insistent.

  He grinned, and it occurred to her how infrequently she had witnessed this man’s gorgeous smile. The expression lit up his features and softened his eyes, making him look more boy than rugged man.

  She returned his smile.

  He leaned forward to whisper, “You are beautiful.”

  How could it be? Only a moment ago she had felt as if she were the most pitiful creature alive, and now she knew with certainty that she must surely be pretty, if only because he said so. Still, she could not help protesting. “But I—”

  “I will not hear you say another word about it.” His arms tightened around her. “These people have eyes but do not see with them. Know that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

  Her smile turned radiant. There could be no mistaking his words, nor the adoration shining clearly from his eyes, and lost in the wonder of him, she twirled around and around, there on the dance floor, lost in the magic of his arms. She grinned…and she grinned. Soon she was laughing, and War Cloud joined in with her.

  They might be in the middle of hostile country, perhaps even in the midst of a quarrelsome group of people, but it did not matter.

  They had fallen in love and both of them knew it without speaking a word.

  Whatever were they to do?

  The melody ended. Another song took its place. The people pressed in around them; some looked shocked at the couple’s behavior, others indulgent.

  Anna stopped, as did War Cloud. Gradually he let his arms drop from around her, but he did not take his eyes from her.

  He stared at her; she back at him.

  Others’ bodies began to dance around them, some even bumping into them. Still, neither she nor War Cloud moved.

  At last he broke eye contact to look around him. He appeared to take stock of where he was, what the others around him were doing and, gazing back at her, he spoke more eloquently through expression than mere words could have.

  He would be alone with her. Now.

  Anticipation washed through her, her stomach twisting with the knowledge of what the night might yet hold for them.

  He took her by the hand and turning, led her away, out of the throng of dancers. And he did not stop until he had taken her far from the center of the celebration.

  Others watched them; others whispered, and Anna heard them, but it never occurred to her to pull away from him. Why should it? She trusted War Cloud with every fiber of her being.

  Besides, none of these people knew what she knew. She had been lucky enough—or perhaps unlucky enough—to have experienced the worst and the best from these Indians, and she knew them for what they were: a people, same as any other people, with perhaps different ideals and goals, but certainly an honorable people who did not deserve to be called “savage.”

  She followed his lead as he took her past the fires of the wagon train, out and away from their circle, out onto the prairie. And looking back, Anna was happy to discover that, while these travelers might be willing to damage her reputation with gossip, no one had actually come after them. Perhaps no one wished to tangle with War Cloud.

  He stopped at the edge of a hill, beneath an overhanging rocky edge and as he did so, he drew her into his arms.

  As though she were lost in a dream, she stared up at him, dazed, if only by the strength of her devotion to him. In the distance she could hear the music, accompanied by the rush of the winds over the grasses. But as romantic and alluring as these sounds might be, Anna barely registered them.

  Hazy moonlight shone down from over her shoulder, silhouetting War Cloud’s face, and she noticed little things about him all at once: the way the dim lighting cast flickering shadows over his features, the way his high cheekbones threw his eyes into shadow. And though she could little see his eyes, she had no trouble reading his thoughts.

  This man wanted her; and the good Lord help her, she desired him as well. She loved him.

  One of his hands came up to sweep his fingers over her cheek, while with his other hand, he held her fingers entrapped in his. She closed her eyes, drew in her breath and pressed herself forward, wanting no more than to experience the feel of his body against hers.

  But he had other things in mind, apparently, for he kept her a hairsbreadth away from him. Presently, he reached around behind her head, there to seek out the pins that held her coiffure in place. And all the while his fingers groped with their task, his stare never left her face and his gaze touched her like a potent caress.

&nb
sp; He said, gently, “I have always liked your hair down.”

  “I know,” she whispered. Tenderly, as though he were one of her children, she brought her fingers up to the hard contours of his face, there to run her fingertips down his cheek, watching with pleasure as a shudder, barely perceptible, shook his body.

  Oh, how she needed this; how she needed him. Worse, she had to touch him, to feel him, to tell this man that she loved him and that she would follow him anywhere. But most of all she ached to show him that she would be his for the rest of her life.

  A cloud passed over the moon, making it difficult to see more than a mere outline of his shape. But it did not matter. He brought his face close to hers, and she inhaled swiftly as the balmy scent of his skin imprinted itself into her memory forever.

  Delicately, he nibbled on her neck, fondling first one of her earlobes and then the other. Her body stilled as she tried to hold on to her sanity, for delirious sensations had spread throughout her body, making her feel dizzy.

  One of his hands massaged her through her dress, up and down her back, that hand coming dangerously close to her buttocks, until with one low pass after another, he felt her there also.

  Ah, how she longed to open up to him, to give him everything in her that there was to give. She stretched her arms around his neck.

  Had she been less hungry for him, had she been less inclined to open up to him, it might have occurred to her that someone from the wagon train could spot them here. And whether it was as it should be or not, she might also have realized that if she were seen in this way with War Cloud, there would be trouble for him…for her.

  But how could she think of these things when she was beyond rational thought?

  Especially when War Cloud’s fingers were beginning a silent descent down her spinal column, creating outbursts of havoc with his every touch. She groaned and fell in toward him. How could she not do so? It felt that good.

  He said, “I must lift your skirt. Do not be alarmed.”

  She nodded, and the dear Lord help her, she assisted him. He lifted her up and positioned her with her back toward the smooth wall of the stone cliff. With the bulk of her weight pressed against that wall, he guided her legs around his waist.

  He whispered into her ear, “Do you know what you do to me?” even while he directed her hips to join with his.

  She did not answer, not trusting her voice.

  He continued, “I should find us a spot where we would be free from the eyes of the whites. I should take you slowly, also, to show you my admiration, but forgive me, Nahkohe-tseske, I cannot wait.”

  She murmured, “I do not want you to.”

  “Someday,” he said, “there will come a time when we will spend the whole day wrapped in each other’s arms. Someday we will have this.”

  Did he know what he was saying? she wondered. Did he realize that he was giving her a future with him?

  Did that mean he was ready to marry her? And to the devil with the curse? Did he love her?

  She forgot to think any further as his fingers found her most vulnerable, most feminine spot, and before she could utter a sound, he joined his body with hers.

  “Nahkohe-tseske,” he breathed into her ear. “Know that I would keep you with me if I could.”

  She whispered, “I know.”

  “Do not be angry with me,” he muttered.

  “I am not angry with you.”

  “And yet you should be. I do you a dishonor. You are the sort of woman that a man marries. The kind of woman that he devotes himself to for the rest of his life.”

  “This is no dishonor, sir.”

  He groaned and brought his hand up to her breasts, his fingers beginning a massage upon her delicate skin, the sensations he created sending her head spinning. Yet he was still deeply sheathed within her, his hips thrusting and gyrating against hers.

  She heard a whimper and it took her a few moments to realize the sound had come from her. She whispered, “I love you.”

  “Hova’ahane,” he uttered, and while she registered this Cheyenne word as a negative response, his caress on her told her the very opposite: that she very likely held this man’s devotion as no other woman had ever done. But what good did that do her? He would never marry her.

  Unless she broke the curse.

  Damn the curse! She loved this man as she had never loved another soul, and she would be condemned to hell before she would let a centuries-old curse come between her and the man she adored.

  But he disentangled himself from her all at once, mumbling in hushed tones, “Though I might not be able to give you the one thing you deserve, Nahkohe-tseske, I can at least give you this.”

  And with no more said, he grabbed her under her arms and gently pushed her upward. With the majority of her weight still held up against the wall of the cliff, he positioned her high above him, and said, “Put your legs around my neck.”

  What? She uttered a slight protest. “But I don’t understand—”

  He did not offer a word in response, however. He simply pushed up her skirt and ducked his head underneath it. And where the male part of him had once caressed her, he began to kiss her there, too, over and over.

  He could not have knocked the breath from her chest any better if he had been trying. Dear heaven above! She had not known such sensation existed.

  What he was doing to her was scandalous in the extreme, naughty and perhaps indiscreet, and she was shocked beyond herself. Yet, for all that, it was the height of ecstasy.

  “War Cloud.” She made a halfhearted attempt at protest, but when he answered her with a “Shhh,” she did exactly as he bade.

  His tongue found her moist cleft and the sensitive spot above it, and with a sigh, she spread her legs even farther, opening to him, trusting him with this, her most precious gift.

  He made love to her in a way she had never dreamed possible, and as surges of euphoria ebbed and flowed within her, she moved against him until she thought she might explode.

  Her breathing became rushed while her body labored toward a fulfillment that it understood instinctively.

  His kisses became firmer, his tongue more insistent and tiny cries escaped her lips until all at once she burst with excitement, fiery rushes of intoxication sweeping over her. Over and over the pleasure rushed within her, until she felt herself at last relax.

  She thought that he might have let her slip down to him, then. But he did not. He kissed her in the same spot again and again, and only gradually did he lower her to him, and then only far enough to give him access to her breasts.

  She still wore her chemise, but this did not hinder him. He kissed her through it.

  When he at last settled her down farther, so that he could join his body to hers once more, he kissed her neck, her hair, her cheeks, and finally her lips. The scent of him, and of her, as well, was caught on his breath, but it was not repulsive.

  Alas, it was exhilarating.

  Holding her under her buttocks, he locked his gaze with hers as best he could within their darkened paradise. It was as though he elicited her agreement before he thrust himself into her.

  She groaned as she took him fully into her. For a moment, her body went limp. It felt so good.

  He moved with her and within her, up and down, driving and bearing against her as though he practiced a private dance with her. Gradually he set up a rhythm, one that she met easily.

  Without stopping a thing she was doing, she reached out to run her fingers through the long, coarse locks of his hair, and as she did so, she murmured, “Thank you for that, War Cloud. That was wonderful.”

  “Ne-a’ese,” he said. “It is I who should thank you. You are all I have ever wanted, and more.”

  He strained against her, one thrust of his hips giving way to another, over and over.

  And strangely, she began to feel the beginnings of a more arousing sensation rising up within her again, and she gave in to the feeling, meeting his every motion, move for move.

/>   After a short while, his breathing became more strained and she could perceive the rush of heat within him. She knew he was nearing the climax of his own pleasure.

  She gazed at him, watching him in wonder as his muscles contracted against her. It was powerful; he was powerful and he was magnificent, and she felt herself responding in kind to him.

  All at once he exploded, as though her loving had set him off like a blast. And she met him beat for beat, glorying in the ultimate satisfaction as liquid fire, raw and frenzying, swept over her.

  Dear God, she thought, she had never felt closer to another human being in her life. How was she ever supposed to walk away from this man?

  Truly, she thought, she could not do it. It would be like denying a piece of herself. It would be like dying.

  It was not a pleasant thought, and shoving such dispiriting ideas to the back of her mind, she set herself to thinking about something else.

  She pressed lingering kisses to his chest, amazed at the soft, yet firm texture of his skin.

  Ah, she thought, this is so much better…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The remote sound of thunder awoke them.

  He was the first one to move, pushing himself up and away from her. And though his fingers caressed her hair, moving down to her face and her cheeks, his first words were not romantic as he said, “We must awaken the children who are to travel with us and we must leave here at once.”

  Oddly, despite her unusual position, she had been drifting in and out of consciousness for some minutes, but upon hearing him talk, she came fully awake. He gave her bottom a few gentle taps, and as he allowed her legs to slip down to the ground, she wondered how long they had slept.

  Thirty minutes? An hour? The distant sounds of the fiddles and a harmonica told her that not much time had elapsed since they had first come here, but that was not enough detail to settle her mind. Perhaps the pioneers danced the whole night through.