Slowly drawing his fingers down from the rapid beat of a pulse in the hollow of her throat to the firm thrust of her breasts, he shaped the creamy mounds with his palms, his eyes half-closing. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a little hoarse and his breathing ragged. “I used to dream about you . . . doing this . . . touching you and just learning you.” His thumbs dragged over the taut, aching peaks of her breasts in a tantalizing caress, and Deborah felt the heat in her belly rise and curl and flush her entire body. When his knees pressed her thighs a little wider, he spread a hand from her breast to the obvious swell of her belly. He looked up at her, eyes darkening to a blue so deep it was almost black.
At that moment, he made her think of a savage again, fierce and brutal with pleasure. The exultant light in his eyes was a deep, steady flame.
“We are one, Deborah. You have my heart. And I have yours. There will be no more misunderstandings between us.”
“No,” she whispered. Her fingers trailed down the strong curve of his arms to his wrists where he held his hand on her stomach. “One—together.” Spreading his fingers across her stomach, he looked startled, and Deborah laughed softly.
“Our child wants to remind us that we will be three together.” A strange look stole over his features, and Zack sat quietly for several minutes, feeling the strong thumps against his palm as the child moved. She saw his throat work for air, and his expression blurred as he closed his eyes as if in pain. When his lashes lifted again, thick and shadowing his eyes, she saw his mouth flatten and curve into a smile.
“I hope he does not mind if I share his mother for a while.” Deborah held her breath when his hands moved lower, grazing the tender curve of her inner thighs, stroking her with leisurely caresses that made her tremble. His weight and the gentle pressure of his knees holding her legs apart made her feel hot and restless with growing excitement.
He bent his head, his hands dark against her pale skin as he watched her reaction to what his hands were doing. In between drags of heated air, Deborah saw the smooth, muscled curve of his broad shoulders shudder slightly as he stroked her, his fingers moving to the pulsing warmth between her legs.
When she pressed up into his hand with a ragged moan, he muttered something in Comanche and sat back. He fumbled at the buttons of his pants, rose to his knees to push them down, then kicked them away. Deborah stared at him with appreciation, the lean hard strength of him, the bronzed muscle that roped his body and flexed with his movements, and then he was back over her, his knees wedging between her thighs again.
Her breath came in short, tortured pants for air, the need for him rising so strong and demanding that she reached out. “Zack . . . please.” The renewed pressure of his body against her damp, hot center made her shudder, and her fingers caught at his long hair and pulled his head down to hers. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, nibbling with tiny, fevered bites that made him groan, and he thrust his tongue between her lips. The exploration of her mouth made the heat rise to a fever-pitch, and when his hands found her taut nipples, she cried out.
Zack didn’t try to smother her cries, but instead, seemed to take a fierce pleasure in them. His breath came harsh and fast, and his braced arms trembled with strain as he held himself over her. He raked his lower body up and over her sensitive folds of flesh in an erotic rhythm that made her squirm and shudder and strain toward him.
On fire with need, Deborah moaned again, “Please, Zack, oh please love me . . .”
This time he answered with a shift of his body so that the hard heat of him pressed into her. Her hips lifted in an automatic move to accept him. She felt his throb and shudder as he hesitated, then the hot, delicious slide of him into her that made the world spin around her in a blur of moonlight and sensation.
Zack made a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure, and his breath feathered over her cheek as he bent his head. Soft moans escaped her, tangled in his hair, brushed against his ear. His invasion filled her, hard and strong and powerful and making her arch upward into his thrusts until she felt as if she was sailing above the earth.
Before, Deborah had always felt as if he’d held something back from her, some part of himself that he could not share as easily as he did his body.
Not this time. This time he lost himself in her, driving into her with mindless passion and whispered words of love, some of them she understood and some she didn’t. His heat and the smells of their lovemaking drove her to match his fierce thrusts.
Her hands slid with almost frantic urgency over the glistening curve of his shoulders, down the ridged bend of his ribs to his lean, hard waist, then moved to cup and hold his buttocks in her palms. She could feel the flex of muscle as he moved, the thrust and drag of him inside her, the almost unbearable friction growing higher and hotter until she thought she would explode with it.
When the release came, it washed over her in endless waves that spun her up so high she thought she was touching the moon. Light everywhere, flashes behind her eyes, bathing her in warmth and love.
Spiralling slowly back to earth, she grew more aware of Zack, his body heavy atop her, some of his weight braced on his bent arms, his breath harsh and ragged in her ear. She remembered his groan, the husky word he had muttered when he had exploded inside her.
“Usúni.”
Forever. Yes. Forever.
Epilogue
Pecos River, Texas
1873
“I got a letter from Judith.” Deborah held out the page, and Zack took it, his eyes scanning the neat scrawl. He handed it back to her after a moment.
“She seems happy enough since they got married.”
“Yes.” Deborah folded the paper and tucked it back into the envelope, smiling at her husband as he held their child in the strong cradle of his arms.
“It’s a good thing my divorce came through. She and Dexter are expecting a child next spring.”
A faint smile curved the hard line of his mouth, and Zack muttered,
“Poor child.”
Deborah pressed a hand over her mouth,, and her voice was reproving when she said, “That’s not fair. Judith only wanted someone to love her, and Dexter—” She paused, and he lifted a brow and grinned wickedly.
“Yes? You were going to say something nice about poor Dexter? I’m waiting.” When she gave him a glance of reproof, he couldn’t help laughing.
“Sweetheart, you know he’s too damned mean and ambitious for his own good. I just hope your cousin knows what she’s got herself in for.” Sighing, Deborah said, “I think she does. She loves him, and that’s all that matters.”
Zack felt something raw and still painful move in his chest, the memory of the years without love clawing at him. Thank God those memories were slowly fading now. He had Deborah, and he had his son, an armful of active baby that chose that moment to wet his napkin and his father’s lap.
Holding him with an expression of chagrin and disgust, Zack heard the front door open and his mother laugh.
“Zachary dear, you should know that these things happen on occasion.” Amelia Banning Miles moved onto the porch with a twinkle lighting blue eyes remarkably like her son’s.
She bent over and lifted the squirming child from his father’s arms, tucking him into the angle of her arm and shoulder and cooing softly to him.
Laughing, the baby waved chubby arms, staring up at his grandmother with thick-lashed golden eyes. His dark hair and tawny skin echoed his heritage, but the bright smile was a replica of his mother’s. The eyes were strictly his own. Wolf eyes, Zack had named them, and that was what he called the child.
Wolf. Deborah had insisted upon a more proper name for their son, that decision echoed by Amelia. In the end, they had settled on Caleb Hamilton Banning. Little Cale answered just as readily to either name, Deborah and Amelia had noticed with dismay. Six months old and active, he literally ran the household.
Zack smiled at his mother, and saw her eyes cloud with shadow. She still regre
tted the lost years, he knew. Daniel Miles had died several years before, and the ranch belonged to Amelia and Danny now. His older half brother had asked him to remain and help out, but Zack had still not made up his mind. At first, he’d not known what was going to happen to him if Albright died, but then the gunman had survived and all charges had been dropped.
Then he’d just wanted to see Deborah settled somewhere safe, but the reunion with his mother had lured him into lingering until after the birth of his child.
Now he was restless, feeling the need to move on again. Old habits died hard, he supposed, but this time the urge to roam had an end goal in mind.
He cleared his throat.
“I got a letter, too, you know,” he said, and Deborah looked at him, her hazel eyes flecked with gold and shadow.
“I know. I was wondering if you would mention it.” Shrugging, Zack rose from the chair, plucking his damp pants away from his thighs with a mutter of disgust. Then he went to his wife and pulled her against him.
“Sally Martin wrote me. She has decided to put her ranch up for sale.”
“Sally Martin—the woman who saved your life.” Deborah nodded.
There was no jealousy in her tone, only a profound gratitude to the woman who’d helped Zack and loved him.
“Yes. I invited her to come here for a while.” He grinned when Deborah’s head tilted back to look up at him. “I thought she and Danny might get along pretty good.”
“Zack Banning, are you matchmaking?” Deborah demanded so incredulously that he could feel a slight flush rising.
“Well, she’s lonely and so is Danny since his wife died a few years back,” he defended himself. “I can’t see any harm in it.”
“Any harm in what?” a masculine voice asked, and they turned to see Danny Miles step up onto the porch. He was dusty and smiling, his light blue eyes raking his brother with affection. “Not another baby, I hope.”
“Do you object to this one?” Amelia demanded so swiftly they all laughed.
Danny dragged a hand through his light brown hair and shook his head ruefully. “No, but he sure is a noisy thing at times. Yowled for an hour the other day after I took away the knife he found.” Zack felt a shudder run through Deborah, and curled his arms around her again. “He gets into trouble, that’s for sure.” Leaning back against the porch post, Danny eyed him closely. “You’re up to something,” he guessed. “I can tell by your eyes.” Deborah smothered a laugh. “Zack has someone he wants you to meet, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking about buying her ranch.” There was a moment of quiet, and they all heard Amelia Miles’s quickly in-drawn breath. Young Caleb gave a squeal of protest at her tightening hug, and she soothed him with soft words in her cool, clipped tones.
“Where is it?” Danny asked after a moment.
“At the foot of the Hueco Mountains.”
“Near the Velazquez and Diamond places?” Danny’s surprise was evident.
“Not too near. But I’m not worried about it. I don’t think Diamond will mess with me, not since he’s married to Judith. And since Don Francisco lost any claim to his lands, he’s certainly not a threat. I hear he’s living in some adobe hut near Sirocco.”
“Hardly the grande hacienda he once had, but it’s his own fault.” Zack tilted a glance at Deborah. “You sorry you didn’t get to keep any of it?” “I could have, you know. After you produced the paper you had him sign, I could have claimed all of it.” Deborah shook her head. “At least Tía Dolores is well taken care of. I think it’s justice that Don Francisco lost everything, but I can’t help feeling a certain sadness that she lost, too.”
“Too bad the law didn’t take care of Velazquez.” Zack shrugged. “You’d think a signed confession of attempted murder, extortion, and various other crimes would have put him away for a while at worst, gotten him hung at best.” Zack’s voice hardened, and his eyes narrowed. “It would have suited me if he had dangled from the end of a rope, but I don’t always get my way.”
“No,” Amelia said coolly, “you don’t. I don’t want you to move away.” Zack shifted slightly, leaning back against the wooden porch rail and pulling Deborah with him. “We need our own life. Our own place. Sally’s offer is a good one. She has plenty of water, deep wells, and enough acreage to run a few cattle. I don’t need more. Don’t want more.” His arm tightened around Deborah. “I have all I want now.” Danny cleared his throat, boot scraping against the porch as he bent one long leg and looked out over the land stretching beyond the house. “I sent that herd of cattle to market like you wanted.”
“Did you cut out the beeves we agreed on?” Danny nodded. “Yes. White Eagle’s camp will have enough meat for the winter.”
“This winter, anyway.”
Silence fell. The Comanche had been relentlessly pursued by Mackenzie, and defeated in a bloody battle at North Fork. Shortly thereafter, a Comanche war chief, Parra-a-coom, or Bull Bear, had gone to Fort Sill and asked that the women and children Mackenzie had taken be released in exchange for the surrender of the warriors. United States Agent Tatum had reservations. Release of the women and children being held as hostages would only free the men to make war again, he thought. Already, their imprisonment had secured the freedom of fourteen white captives and twelve Mexicans being held by the Comanche. He refused.
Sunflower was still among those being held by Mackenzie at Fort Richardson, and White Eagle had chosen to go on the warpath to affect his daughter’s return. It was a tense situation.
“It will not end well,” Zack said heavily. “There will have to be a Comanche leader who has the foresight to lead the people to peace instead of war. White Eagle is old and alone.” Later, as Zack and Deborah walked to the crest of a rolling swell of land, she asked softly, “Do you miss living with the Comanche?”
“At times,” he answered honestly. “It was a simple way of life. And free.
We followed the buffalo, or the wind.”
“Freedom is costly,” Deborah murmured.
Zack stopped and turned her into his arms. His eyes burned into her, and he felt a growing constriction in his chest. He knew his voice was hoarse, raw, but he couldn’t help the emotion. His years of control vanished as if on the wind.
“All I need,” he said, “is right here in my arms. I have found it with you.
You are my wind, my freedom, my love.” He saw her eyes glaze with tears, and the polished sheen of her hair glowed under the setting sun with an underlying fire. Her arms came around him, and she fit against him as if she had been created for just that purpose.
“I will always love you, Zack Banning,” she said softly. “You are as wild and free as the hawk for which you were named, and I’ll stay with you forever. Usúni.” Bending his head, his dark hair brushed against her cheek as he kissed her, and overhead the cry of a hawk spiraled down in lilting waves.
To my readers—
This story was special to me, and I hope you found it to be special as well.
Sometimes, characters seem to take over. I found that to be true with these.
As I did my research for this story, I became quite involved with Hawk. He occupied my mind so much that I thought of him even when not writing. His situation was one a great many people of his time faced, and to some extent, may still face.
What intrigued me was the fact that though I live in a busy suburb, I became host to a hawk. This beautiful bird has shown up at my house on numerous occasions since I began this story, and I never knew when it would arrive or how long it would stay. I thought it unusual, and sometimes would begin my day wondering if the hawk would come today. I took it as a symbol, and when the hawk came to perch on my fence or in a tree in my backyard, I felt as if it would be a special day. And a special story.
I hope you think so, too. If you enjoyed Hawk and Deborah’s story and want to tell me about it, please write to me in care of: BELL BRIDGE BOOKS
PO Box 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Coming Next From Virginia Brown Capture the Wind
Document Outline
Other Books from Virginia Brown
Comanche Moon
Dedication
Book I
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Book II
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
To my readers�
Table of Contents
Document Outline
Comanche Moon Page 36