Choked with the happiness that he was bringing her, his words like magic to her ears, Leonida sniffed back the urge to cry. But the crowd stirred, and people suddenly started clapping in time with the music and singing. A young man, hardly any older than Runner, had emerged from the crowd. Alone, he began dancing gracefully as the audience watched appreciatively. He wore a breechclout, moccasins, and a horsehair roach and feather on his head. His thumping moccasins raised clouds of dust. His head bobbed. His knees reached almost to his chest as he bent them in his dance. When he whirled around, the women of the village shouted bravo, and the men grunted loud exclamations of pride.
Then he was joined by many other children. They danced all together, or by turns, without fixed order, laughing joyously.
Leonida scarcely breathed as she saw one of the young braves coaxing Runner to join them. She covered her mouth with her hand as Runner moved among the dancers, himself laughing and carrying on as he mimicked the dancers.
Sage leaned closer to her. “Perhaps his name should be Dancer instead of Runner?” he whispered, chuckling softly. “This child already stands out from the others as special.”
This statement made Leonida a bit uneasy. She leaned close to Sage. “Does this bother you?” she whispered. “That he is performing so well, making your young braves look less skilled in the eyes of their mothers and fathers? Will this cause jealousy to grow against Trevor?”
“My people admire fortitude in anyone, no matter what their skin coloring,” Sage whispered back. “From childhood on, it is taught to be the best among those of your acquaintance. Each child strives for this. As they watch Runner, they will strive even harder. Challenges make men of boys. Winners become warriors more quickly than others. It is good to have Runner here to teach the others that they must work harder to become the best of those their same age. Yes, it is good that they are seeing this white boy as better. They will understand when they see the persistence of white men such as Kit Carson, how he might have risen above the others in his own challenges. They will work harder to fight off such challengers in the future, when they are men.”
Leonida shuddered at the mention of Kit Carson, who was ready to stop at nothing to take Sage’s freedom from him and place him in the confines of a reservation. Soon she would be Sage’s wife. This meant that she also might be doomed to a reservation.
The thought terrified her, yet then she reminded herself that when one loved as strongly as she did, she could live anywhere with her beloved. She would do everything within her power to make life more bearable for the man she loved.
Leonida and Sage’s attention were drawn to his people. Everyone had become lighthearted and accepting of their chief’s marriage to a “captive.” The young braves had ceased their dancing, and singers had stepped forth to sing to the bridal couple, making her melt with relief that perhaps she might be accepted into their hearts after all. She had to believe their change in attitude was somehow linked with Trevor and the young Navaho braves’ acceptance of him. Children could always touch people’s hearts when nothing else would.
Leonida smiled from one to the other, filled with joy. The celebrating went on for some time, until the skies were carpeted with black and the stars were like tiny twinkling beacons in the sky.
Soon the singers went back and sat down among the others. Everything became quiet as Pure Blossom appeared before Sage and Leonida, spreading a rug on the ground in front of them.
Sage turned to Leonida. He smiled as he took her hands, then helped her from the platform. She followed him to the rug and sat down beside him on it.
“My sister, bring the medicine basket to us,” Sage said, smiling up at his sister, yet noticing her extreme pallor. She was walking slowly, as though each step might be her last. He felt helpless, knowing that everything had been done for her as a child to make her stronger and to rid her of her afflictions. There was nothing else to do now but watch her slowly fade away.
Not wanting to think further about the sadness of his sister, Sage turned his gaze to Leonida. He had wanted to do everything possible to make this wedding ceremony beautiful for his woman. She must be of prime importance today, her welfare the only thing filling his thoughts and heart.
“What is a medicine basket?” Leonida whispered.
“It is part of the ceremony that makes you my wife,” he said, gently touching her cheek with his hand.
Leonida smiled weakly at him, wondering about a wedding ceremony that included “medicine baskets.” But she did not have time to question Sage further. Pure Blossom came to them with a basket filled with corn mush that she had prepared for the ceremony.
Leonida did not question anything else. She just followed Sage’s lead, doing what he asked her to do.
Sage divided the mush in four directions.
Now he was praying for them.
Now they were ceremonially partaking of the yellow corn.
Then Leonida sat spellbound as Sage began singing to her solemnly.
It was a traditional Navaho song, which he translated so she could understand, a song about the mingling of the white and yellow corn, the mingling of a man and a woman, and a happiness that would never pass.
She was touched deeply by his song and the endearing look in his eyes as he gazed at her, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She flung herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, then thrilled when he said softly in her ear: “You are now my wife. The ceremony is complete.”
Everyone swarmed around them. Sage helped Leonida to her feet. She accepted hugs and kisses, and was touched deeply when Sally came and gave her a heartfelt hug.
“I shall talk to the others,” Sally said, standing back from Leonida and holding her hands. “It’s been hard to understand, all of this between you and the Indian. But I see such happiness in your eyes. How can I question that? Please stay happy. And may God be with us all should Kit Carson arrive intent on killing Sage and his people. I fear Kit now more than any Indian.”
Choked with emotion, Leonida could only nod and hug Sally again. When Trevor came to her and tugged the skirt of her dress, Leonida broke away from Sally and knelt down to give him a big hug.
“You said that I would be staying the night with Pure Blossom,” Trevor said, wriggling from Leonida’s arms. “Can Adam stay there with me? Can two other boys? We promise not to bother Pure Blossom. We’ll be quiet.”
Leonida glanced up at Sally, realizing that she had heard Trevor’s request. She saw a reserve in Sally’s nervous smile, but was glad when she gave a nod of approval. Leonida had to wonder if Sally would be so eager to approve if she knew that Sage had assigned Trevor an Indian name.
Soon everyone was scattered in all directions, going to their own hogans. Sage was leading Leonida through the night, to the cliff that she now knew so well. He had wrapped her in a rabbit-fur cloak and was holding her snugly against his side as they reached the summit of the cliff where the world was basking in night’s silence.
“My wife,” Sage said, testing the words on his lips again, as though finding them hard to believe. “You are now my wife. My heart is singing with the knowing.”
He turned to her and put his hands at her waist. Gently he drew her into his embrace and gave her a kiss that made her head swim and her knees grow weak. When he reached up and brushed the cloak from her shoulders, she was not conscious of the damp mountain air. She was too consumed with the fires being ignited within her by her husband’s kisses and the caresses of his hands as his fingers went to her breasts, kneading them through the soft doeskin of her dress.
Lost heart and soul to this adorable man, Leonida began running her hands over his powerful chest, reveling in the mere touch of him. Lower her fingers wandered, and she smiled to herself when his stomach muscles quivered as she touched him ever so lightly when seeking out the fabric of his breechclout. When she had been held against him, she had felt his arousal even through her dress, and it made her seek out that part of him now, to touch, to caress
.
When she finally reached his breechclout, she did not stop her exploring. Her heart pounding, she slipped her hand inside it, hearing Sage’s gasp of pleasure against her lips as she soon wrapped her fingers around his throbbing member, moving them on him slowly, ever so slowly.
Sage slid his mouth from her lips and kissed the hollow of her throat, becoming mindless from her skillful ways of pleasuring him. He smiled to himself, realizing that he had taught her well. Even now, as she stopped long enough to slip his breechclout down his thighs, he knew what to expect next from her.
But he did not want that sort of pleasuring just yet. He wanted to touch her all over, feel the heat of her passion rise as he caressed her body with his tongue and fingers. Then he would accept her lips on him, wherever and however she wanted to pleasure him. Now it was her turn to be awakened fully to how much he truly loved her—would always love her.
With the urging of his hands, Leonida stepped away. Her pulse began to race as he slowly disrobed her, his hands reacquainting themselves with her newly revealed flesh a portion at a time, enjoying teasing her. He could see the rapture building in her eyes, and in the way her breasts heaved, as he finally bared them to his feasting eyes.
Leaving the dress resting around her hips, Sage cupped her breasts in his hands, letting their weight rest within his palms. His thumbs circled the nipples, causing Leonida to close her eyes and sigh.
When Sage knelt over and touched his tongue to one of the nipples, he drew a groan of ecstasy. Leonida placed her fingers at the nape of his neck and urged his lips even lower, her whole body pounding as if it were one large heartbeat, with that which she was encouraging him to do.
He answered her plea by slipping her dress down to the ground. Then he knelt before her, gaining access to the center of her passion. Spreading her soft down of hair apart, he touched his tip slowly to her swollen nub, sending a shiver up and down Leonida’s spine. She urged him even closer to her and sighed languorously when he complied and gave her a loving so intense, she felt as though she might faint.
Just as she almost soared into the clouds with the intense pleasure he was giving her, he placed his hands on her waist and drew her down on her knees before him.
Pulling her to him, he kissed her with a feverish heat, his every nerve ending raw with the building passion. He removed her headband and tossed it aside, then twined his fingers through her hair and held her lips tightly against his. Back onto the cushion of the rabbit-fur cloak he urged her, soon spreading himself atop her.
Their bodies strained together hungrily as he sought entrance with his throbbing member. He sucked in a wild breath and eased his lips from hers as he thrust himself deeply into her and began his smooth, even strokes, her rhythm matching his as she lifted her hips to meet him.
Leonida could not keep her hands off him. Her heart thudded within her; she felt growing sensations that left her breathless. She smoothed her fingers over his back, and down to his buttocks, and then around so that she could get an occasional feel of his manhood.
When he stopped suddenly, she gazed up at him with a silent question, then followed his bidding when he urged her to move to her hands and knees. She shuddered with desire when he entered her again from this position, his hands reaching down and around, kneading and teasing her taut breasts.
A delicious tingling heat was spreading within Leonida as he molded her even closer to him from behind, making it so that he could fill her more deeply with the wondrous, continuing thrusts.
Just when she came close to the height of the languorous feelings that spilled through her when she reached the ultimate splendor, Sage withdrew from her.
Leonida turned again, to stretch out on her back, wondering why he had stopped.
And then she knew.
He straddled her so that she could give him the pleasure that he had denied her earlier. She leaned up on an elbow and loved him with her lips and mouth until she realized it was enough. She knew by the reactions of his body, and by the way he was moaning so pleasurably, it was time for them to find paradise together.
Sage moved over her and parted her legs with a knee. The fires of his passion became known quickly to Leonida as he plunged deep within her and his mouth closed hard upon hers. She placed her fingers on the nape of his neck, urging his lips closer. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them together at the ankles, riding him as his strokes sped deeper, deeper.
His steel arms enfolded her. She could feel his hunger. It matched hers. She was almost beyond coherent thought. The euphoria filling her was more than ever before, so wonderful, so beautiful. She was floating, floating.
Sage’s senses were reeling as he continued to move his lean, sinewy buttocks. He buried his face next to her neck when he felt the pleasure mounting. His fingers bit into her shoulders as licking flames swept through him, igniting the blaze that fired his passions. His whole body quivered when he felt release so close.
He kissed her again, this time softly, her lips parting as his tongue probed. Then everything seemed to explode within him, sending great splashes of warmth throughout him. The sensations seemed to be searing his heart, his very soul, matching Leonida’s own passion as she clung to him, her body shaking against his.
Afterward, Sage rolled onto his back beside her. His chest was heaving. His breath was coming in short gasps.
Leonida felt drugged with passion, her chest heaving from the aftermath of what seemed impossible, intense pleasure.
She turned to Sage and kissed him, her mouth soft and passionate against his. He lifted her atop him and urged her to lie down on him, reveling in the touch of her soft body and large breasts against his.
“I will never get enough of you,” he said huskily, his dark eyes hazy with passion. “My wife, you will desire your husband as much?”
“Always,” Leonida whispered.
Her breath was stolen when he put his hands on her waist and hurriedly placed her on the soft cloak again and rose over her. She closed her eyes in rapture as he entered her, overwhelming her again with his skillful, torrid ways of loving her.
Chapter 17
Where’er she speaks,
My ravished ear no other voice than hers can hear.
—GEORGE LYTTELTON
Leonida had not known the toll it had been taking on Pure Blossom to cook her daily meals and generously share them with Leonida, Sage, and Runner. Not until today.
Even though Pure Blossom had insisted on cooking the meals before, she had sent word that she could not prepare any meals today, that she was not feeling well enough.
Leonida was kneeling beside the fire in her hogan, feeling awkward as she stirred the large pot of stew that she was preparing for the evening meal. Sweat poured down her face in silver streamers, and her hair hung loose and damp across her shoulders. Even as well as she was, she felt the strength draining from her body as the heat from the fire combined with the heat beating down upon her from the sun-drenched domed roof of the hogan.
Guilt plagued her for having allowed Pure Blossom to prepare the meals. But she kept reminding herself that Pure Blossom had insisted. Sage and Leonida had allowed it only because they agreed that this made her feel happy and useful.
Resting the wooden spoon in the pot, Leonida put her hands on her aching back and rose slowly to her feet. Besides cooking, she was learning other ways of being a Navaho wife. She carried water from the creek daily, as well as gathered wood wherever she could find it. She had not allowed Runner to accompany her, always fearing the cliffs and the danger they posed to a small child who did not know the meaning of the word “danger.”
Fanning herself with her hand, Leonida moved away from the fire and went into the bedroom she and Sage shared. Her heart pounded even now at the remembrance of his lips and hands caressing her to heights of joyous bliss she had never thought possible. She wished that he were here now to rekindle their lovemaking of only a short while ago, before Runner awakened and came into their roo
m, his stomach growling from hunger.
Wiping his eyes sleepily, Runner had looked so innocent and sweet as he waited for them to stir from their bed. Sage had playfully pulled him into the bed with them, and Runner had been oblivious that they were naked. Sage said it was best to allow him to see their nudity as a natural way of life, to see nothing in it that might embarrass him.
A sound of scampering feet and giggling drew Leonida from her thoughts. She spun around just in time to see Runner and Adam come into the bedroom. Runner’s eyes were dancing as he gazed up at her.
“See Adam?” Runner said, smiling broadly. “Pure Blossom made him a breechclout. Does he not look Navaho now, like me?”
Stunned, fearing Sally’s reaction, Leonida gasped, then knelt down before Runner and Adam and placed a hand on Runner’s shoulder. “Honey, I know that Pure Blossom meant well,” she murmured. “But I don’t think that Adam’s mother . . .”
“No, Adam’s mother does not approve,” Sally said, bursting into the hogan, her face red with anger. “I saw Adam running toward your hogan dressed—dressed as a savage.”
Sally grabbed Adam’s hand and jerked him away from Runner’s side, then up into her arms as she turned to stamp away. “I was wrong, Leonida, to offer you my friendship again,” she said across her shoulder, her voice breaking. “You might want to turn Trevor into a savage. But never will I allow you to even get near my son again.”
Adam was crying as he was carried from the hogan. Runner went to Leonida and wrapped his arms around her legs, his tears pooling in wet spots on her blue velveteen skirt. “She’s mean,” he wailed. “She’s mean. I’m no savage. Go and tell her I’m no savage.”
Although Leonida expected no less of a reaction from Sally, she still found it hard to accept. She wove her fingers through Runner’s thick black hair, then bent down and lifted him into her arms. As he straddled her with his legs, his arms clinging to her neck, he continued to sob against her bosom.
“I’m sorry that had to happen, darling,” Leonida murmured, rocking him back and forth. “You aren’t a savage, nor is Adam just because he wears a breechclout. Nor is your new daddy a savage. That word is ugly, Runner. Never should it be used in the same breath as Sage. He is more civilized than most whites I have known.”
Wild Splendor Page 14