“It’s strange that it’s underground. We worship in churches.”
“There’s a reason,” Gus said.
“All things came from the Earth,” John said, coming up on Maire’s other side.
“I knew there was a reason,” Gus quipped. “And of course, corn comes from the Earth.”
“Yes, Mother Corn. Maize is the center of life in the Clans. It sustains our bodies and spirits.”
“I enjoyed the dancing. I appreciate your mother’s allowing me to stay so I could see it.”
“I’m sure my mother has enjoyed knowing you.”
Grateful the darkness hid his skeptical expression, Gus chose to say nothing. But he understood their language and knew that John’s mother was wary of having the white woman in her home.
“But I’d better return to my group tomorrow. I’ve been gone so long, and I really do feel better. Thanks to you two and your family, Mr. Eagle. Will you help me get back?”
“Yes. First light.” He veered away from them and headed back to the edge of the mesa and the village.
“He’s certainly a man of few words, isn’t he?”
Gus laughed. “You’ve described him perfectly. When we’re on patrol, we often go a day or two without exchanging a single word.”
“But you’re so gregarious! Isn’t it lonely?”
Strangely, no. But how to describe to a city person the comforting beauty of the desert? The wild sunsets and awe-inspiring sunrises, the way a gully that had been bone dry fills with water in minutes after a heavy rain, and the way the desert sustains and fulfills a man’s soul? Having a companion who felt the same made a bond that didn’t require words.
“It’s not bad,” he said. They reached the adobe home, but Gus didn’t want to say good night.
“Thank you so much, Gus. I would have missed something remarkable if not for you.”
“You’re remarkable, Maire. You went through a great trauma, woke up in an Indian village, and immediately made friends with one of the inhabitants.”
Maire looked over the people still visiting in the courtyard. “Not many inhabitants.”
“Don’t worry if they seem a little reserved. They have reason to suspect the White man’s motives.” He had to touch her hair, her face, some part of her. Restraining himself, he took only her hand loosely in his. “Most women I know would have fallen apart in such circumstances.”
“When I left North Carolina, I decided to leave my old inhibitions behind and explore life. I’ve spent most of my life caring for some people and watching others go off to mysterious places. This is my turn. I’m trying not to judge any situation through stereotypes.”
He grinned. “Did I say that you’re remarkable?”
Maire laughed, and the sound echoed into the night. Gus knew he would continue hearing it after he slipped under the blankets to sleep. He wanted to kiss her. Slowly, as though in a dream, he leaned down. At the last moment, Maire stepped back.
“Gus, I—I’d better go inside and get some rest before tomorrow morning. But thank you, and not just for taking me to the dancing.”
“My pleasure.” He waited until she closed the door, and then he headed to camp, sure that sleep wouldn’t be coming his way for a good long time.
* * * *
Gus had almost kissed her. She had almost kissed him! And she wanted to. Even now, she wished he was right there, a breath away. She wouldn’t hesitate again. She hugged herself with the wonder of it all.
Maire undressed and climbed under the skin and blankets. Eyes closed, she envisioned Gus’s blue eyes, his lips that looked so soft and desirable, and the lock of light hair that hung down over his forehead.
Then, unbidden, dark eyes intruded in her mind’s eye. They were pools of fire. She warmed to them, felt their pull, heated to their invitation.
She couldn’t stop herself from falling into a deep sleep. In her dreams, she flew on the back of an eagle, soaring high in the sky and then gliding over desert and mountain.
“Kiss me, Maire,” the eagle said, and before her eyes it changed into John Eagle. They still flew, but he held her in his arms. His lips crushed hers, and she gave in to him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and boldly controlled it. When she did the same, he sucked strongly on her tongue, making her heart race in a frightening pattern.
Day turned to night, and they continued flying under the stars. She felt she could touch the moon.
Then, suddenly, as things happen in dreams, she flew across the ground, on the back of a coyote. She clutched his soft fur and turned to look behind, where his tail stood out with his run. “I want you,” it said, changing into Gus, and they ran together across the mesa.
Again the scene changed. She stood on a high mountain between Gus and John. Wind whipped her hair. Between her thighs moisture pooled. She could hardly breathe. Her heart raced as the men moved closer. She tried to tell herself that it was due to the height and the wind striking her face, but she knew it was them, the men. She could smell her own desire. She closed her eyes on the sensations taking control of her body, and when she opened them, Gus stood before her.
She was naked. He wore only his britches, and they were unbuttoned. A large appendage jutted out. With trembling hands, she reached to touch it. Then John came up behind her, and he also had a hard length that prodded her, stroked her, and demanded that she surrender.
She wanted to surrender, to feel them over her, under her, in her. Independent, freedom-loving Maire, the fourth daughter of Liam O’Ryan, and the one who had sworn never to allow a man to rule her, wanted more than anything to be dominated by these two men.
Gus’s lips teased and tantalized. John Eagle’s conquered and burned. Gus’s hands caressed her gently. John Eagle’s hands kneaded and stroked. She spread her legs, and they both stroked her cleft—one from the back and the other from the front. The scent of sex filled the air. Her moisture flowed freely. She raised her arms toward heaven, for no feelings such as she now experienced could be anything but heaven-sent. “Yes!”
Gus held his finger to her mouth. “Taste your cream,” he whispered. “Smell how much you want us.”
“We are yours,” John Eagle said from behind her. “And you are ours. Forever.”
With a jerk, she awoke, her harsh breath the only sound in the room. The covers had been thrown back, and somehow, she had removed her nightgown. Her legs spread wide, Maire looked with shock at the fingers she took from her mouth. In reality, as well as in her dream, she had tasted her own essence and smelled the evidence of her need for both Gus and John Eagle. She had never done such a thing before.
When they took her back to the village tomorrow, she would probably never see the men again. Alone, with dreams her only release, she feared her upcoming nights would be full of exploration she’d never imagined. Whatever magic the men held over her, in her dreams she would revel in it, share their desire. And their passion.
Through her dreams, her nights would be filled with passion. But alone, during the days, that passion could only remain unfulfilled.
Chapter Six
John and Gus rode up to John’s mother’s home to collect Maire, leading Pavati’s horse that John had borrowed for the journey. It didn't occur to John until that morning that he hadn’t asked if Maire could ride. If not, he’d take her back to her people the way he’d brought her to his—riding in front of him on his horse. After last night’s dreams in which his dick probed her pussy over and over, that seemed like a terrible idea.
The woman had impressed him over the course of the last few days. Not only had she not demonstrated a superior air or appeared disdainful or even fearful of being surrounded by Indians, she seemed genuinely interested. Not in an academic way, as the other scientists within her encampment, but as though she enjoyed knowing them instead of about them. His mother had confided that “the woman” had even indicated she wanted to learn to grind corn in the proper way. Maire didn’t know it because his mother had let her nowhere near the
precious maize, but her desire to learn had warmed the older woman. Or at least had lessened her distrust. That alone was enough to make John smile. Unfortunately, they were from different worlds. Worlds that didn't mix well.
Dawn broke over the mesa to meet a cold wind blowing from the west, through the canyons, and across the desert. John worried that Maire’s clothing wouldn’t be sufficient to protect her from Spider Grandmother’s elements. Spider Grandmother was related to the Earth and all life on it, as an intercessory between the Clans and the Creator. It was good to keep the spirit happy and satisfied with her people, but sometimes, like with any woman, that task seemed impossible.
He pulled up the collar of his coat against the blasting wind and unusually cold weather for November. “What have I done to piss Spider Grandmother off now?” Tired from a restless night and dreams filled with Maire and sex, John was starting this trip in a foul mood. Yes, getting rid of the woman would be the best thing for him.
“Who have you pissed off?” Gus asked from beside him.
“Nobody,” John replied.
“Well, that’s a first,” Gus said with a laugh.
That he had found Maire, that he’d been led to her, should have told John that he needn’t fear his feelings. Whatever happened between them would flow from a natural desire—or it wouldn’t flow at all.
Suddenly he liked the idea of taking her back to her own people riding before him, his arm holding her close. He could almost feel the pressure of her ass tight against his groin swaying with the rhythm of the horse.
“Would you mind taking Pavati’s horse back to the corral? I think it will be too cold for the woman to ride alone in this wind.”
Gus’s mouth fell open. “You want her to ride with you?” Then he grinned. “Or can she ride with me.”
That Gus would ask with such interest struck something in John. “She’ll ride with me.”
Gus smiled in acquiescence, but his question alone told John that his friend had noticed the same things about Maire that he had. She had a ready smile, a generous nature, and a willingness to accept things different from her usual experience. She was also beautiful. He imagined that attracted Gus right away, but the man was no fool for a pretty face. He appreciated substance as much as form, and John believed Maire had that in abundance.
“Good morning,” he said to Maire when he entered his mother’s house. She sat ready to go, her own dress mended sufficiently to wear and a lightweight coat covering it. That would never do for the miles they would have to ride in the biting November wind.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said in their language.
She came forward with a thick blanket and handed it to him. “The woman will need this, I think.”
He took it and nodded. “She will.”
She turned to Maire. “Patung should watch over her.” She looked up at John. “But you should not. She must release you.”
His mother had taken care of Maire because he brought her here and asked it of her, but it seemed his mother also knew about the spirit that guided John to find her, the one that told him even now that he should protect her. And she didn’t like it.
“What did she say?” Maire asked.
His mother folded her hands at her waist and clucked her tongue. She must have seen that he had no intention of allowing Maire to release him. He wasn’t ready yet.
“She said she thinks the badger god should watch over you. The badger is the god of healing and protection.” Unconsciously he reached out and touched her hair, which she wore up now, like a white woman, instead of loose or braided, like an Indian. “The badger is associated with red, like the color of your hair when the sun shines on it.”
In that moment, only he and Maire were in the room—in the world—staring into each other’s eyes. Time stood still. His heart raced, and all he could think about was holding on to this woman, holding her close, never letting her go.
Then a man shouted outside, one of the hunting party leaving late. Most of the men had headed out while the moon still controlled the sky. His horse neighed, and he discerned the sound of a second horse. That would be Gus. Birds called, and the wind battered the side of the adobe. The world had once more made itself known.
“Please thank your mother for me, for all she has done,” Maire requested.
“She knows,” he said. “I’ll be back tonight,” he told his mother.
The door burst open, and Pavati rushed in. “I didn’t miss you!” She threw her arms around Maire. “I’m so glad Eagle brought you. I feel we’re destined to share our lives. You will come back, won’t you?”
Maire laughed as she hugged the younger woman back. “I would love to come back.” She glanced at John. “If I can, that is.”
“I have to go,” Pavati said in a rush, “but I couldn’t let you leave without saying good-bye.”
“Are things going well?” Maire asked.
Pavati dropped her gaze to the floor. “Very well. I think soon I shall be a married woman.”
Maire hugged her close. “I wish you all the happiness.”
John wished he knew more about Masichuvio’s intentions. He hated that his sister might be tied to a renegade, someone who would be hunted and unable to live among the Clan. Masichuvio didn’t understand the meaning of the words patience or diplomacy, and that could only lead to trouble eventually.
The good-byes over, Maire said she was ready to leave. They left the warmth of the adobe and stepped into the driving wind. Maire shivered immediately, though she tried to hide it by grasping her elbows.
“Where’s my horse?” She turned a surprised look on him.
“I didn’t know for sure you could ride,” he said, but he couldn’t look her in the eyes because the real reason he decided against the horse would shock her. “You’ll ride with me.”
She swiftly shot a glance at Gus, who leaned on the saddle horn and watched them. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be decent.”
“That’s how you got here,” John said with more heat than he intended. He hadn’t expected her to argue. For all her days of wandering among the tribe and wearing Indian dress, she was not an Indian.
“Well, that is not how I will go back. I was sick and unconscious when you brought me. I am not now.”
John stared at her. The woman had spunk and a strong will. “Go get the damn horse,” he barked out at Gus.
Grinning, Gus rode to the side of the house and brought back Pavati’s horse. He hadn't taken the horse back to the corral, the bastard. He'd known Maire wouldn't ride with John.
Gus led the animal to the bench where John had seen them sitting each day. Maire climbed up and used the height to mount. Adjusting her dress as well as she could around her legs, she accepted the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders and across her waist.
“Thank you, Gus.” She took the reins.
“You’re welcome, Maire. All settled?”
“Yes, I think so.” She faced John. “And thank you, Mr. Eagle, for the blanket. I’m prepared to go now.”
“It’s too cold for you to ride like that.”
“It’s too cold for us to waste time out here arguing.”
“Goddamn women,” he muttered. He took the lead, trotting off the mesa and then breaking into a gallop on the flatland, hoping his anger would be eaten with the miles. Trouble was, he didn’t know why he was so mad. Was it because Gus understood Maire well enough to know she wouldn’t share John’s horse? And why wouldn’t she? Because he was Indian, and therefore not worthy of intimate contact? Instinctively, he knew that wasn’t the case, but anger and—he had to admit it—desire was blinding. Maybe he was pissed over something as simple as a name. She called him Mr. Eagle while she used Gus’s Christian name.
As the horse stretched full-out, he looked back. Gus brought up the rear. Maire, sandwiched between them, was keeping up, though a short distance back.
Looking up, he was not at all surprised to see an eagle flying in expanding circles over them. For a mo
ment, he felt himself flying and looking down on the three riders. With a sharpened gaze, he focused on Maire, really focused on her. She was his prey, his object of desire. And he would have her.
* * * *
Everyone in the camp came out to see Maire’s return. Hannah, her tent mate and first friend in camp, wrapped her in a hug when Maire practically fell from the horse. John Eagle had kept them at a gallop almost the whole way, and between the pace, and the cold, Maire wasn’t sure she could feel her legs. She leaned on Hannah more than hugged her back.
“We were all so worried about you,” Hannah said. She looked carefully at Gus and then John Eagle. “But I see you had a good escort home.”
Will Bryant, the senior ethnologist in the camp, came forward and shook her hand. “Welcome back. But you must be frozen.” He also gave John and Gus a look, but not a friendly one. “Come inside and have something warm to drink.”
She turned to the men who still sat astride. “Thank you for bringing me back,” she said, “and for everything else. I owe you two my life. I can never repay you.”
In her mind she heard John’s mother’s words, though she didn’t understand them, and then Clear Water’s reluctant translation. The meaning came to her like a flash of lightning.
She stumbled to John Eagle’s side. “I repay you by releasing you.”
“Well, I’ll be,” she heard Gus mutter. John Eagle sat stoically rigid as he looked down on her. “I do not accept your offer.” He nudged the horse around and rode off.
She gazed up at Gus. More than ever, she wished she had let him hold her and kiss her last night, and that she had ridden with John Eagle. For the rest of her life she would wonder what it would have been like to feel their strong arms about her.
She looked at the people surrounding them, gazing with confusion and worry in their eyes at the way she talked freely with Gus. White women did not act that way around Indians or strange men better suited to a frontier campfire than the museums in which they normally worked. She had to decide her place. And of course it became clear right away when she remembered the distrust and aloofness of Bacavi. Gus and John Eagle were fantasies, not her reality.
Maire [The Sisters O'Ryan 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 5