Maire [The Sisters O'Ryan 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Page 11
Her men came back. “Masichuvio and Mochni departed the hunting party soon after they left Bacavi. They passed back by yesterday. They begged a little food and headed north. A small group of Army men are close behind.” John looked at her, a question in his eyes.
“I can do without food. Let’s go.”
He dropped a quick kiss on her. “Thank you.”
Gus dumped the coffee and kicked snow and sand on the fire. “We’re going to try and make extra time. Do you think you can handle it?”
Could she? She was already sore, and despite her bravado, she was hungry. “I’ll do my best. Don’t let your worry for me slow you down.”
Gus also kissed her and then helped her to mount. “If you need to stop, you just say so, okay?”
“Okay.” She took the reins and leaned down to cup Gus’s cheek. “I’ll try to make you proud of me.”
“We already are, sweetheart.”
He left, and she looked to John. When she nodded, he took off. She dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and sped off after him.
“Dear Father, please help me stay upright for as long as it takes.” But she had made love before marrying, and with two men. A horrible sin. She could only hope that God still heard her prayers.
* * * *
Gus didn’t believe Maire could handle being in the saddle for as many hours as they’d ridden, but she had. He admired her determination, but didn’t envy the way she would feel when she finally put her feet on the ground.
They found the last camp of the hunting party a couple of hours after starting out. Signs of two ponies heading northwest sent them off in that direction another couple of hours, but they’d had no success. The trail faded and then picked up again. When it came to tracking—something that was supposed to be in an Indian’s blood—Gus exceeded John’s capabilities. Even he hadn’t been able to keep sight of the trail in some places, and they’d proceeded on instinct alone. At one point he was about to admit they’d gone in a circle when he picked up their hoof prints again. This is crazy.
Ahead, John stopped and stared at the ground. Gus rode up beside him. “What is it?”
“Several horses came through here, and not too long ago.”
“Shit. I hope they don’t catch up with him before we do.”
John raised his brows just as Maire pulled to a stop beside them. “You’ve come to the same conclusion I have, then,” John said.
Gus nodded and glanced at Maire. “He needs a fair hearing.”
If Maire hadn’t been so tired, Gus supposed the expression on her face would be a smile. As it was, her lips barely turned up. Her nose was red with cold, and her eyes showed exhaustion.
Gus quieted his horse and spoke to John in a low voice. “We need to find a place to stop. She can’t go on much more.”
John looked wistfully into the distance. This time of year, the sun set early and darkness fell with amazing speed. “You’re right,” he admitted. “We should go over there.” He pointed to a bluff about a mile off. “There should be a little protection against the wind, anyway.”
“Can you make it?” Gus asked Maire. She nodded. “Okay, then.” He turned and took point, crossing the tracks the Army horses had made and angling away from them.
About twenty minutes later, they found a good, dry spot on the rock wall.
Gus helped Maire off her horse, and carried her to a place where she could rest her back against the rock face when it became apparent she couldn’t stand on her own. They’d overtaxed her with the day’s ride. Guilt stole through him, but he pushed it aside. She had chosen to come with them, and for good purpose. He would have found Masichuvio and handed him over to the Army to do whatever they wanted. And Gus knew that Army justice wasn’t always fair or right. Her defense of the Indian had won Gus over. Maybe because he didn’t want her thinking less of him, or maybe he’d come to his senses, but every man deserved a fair hearing. Even Masichuvio.
After seeing her settled, he threw up a tent he’d brought. He and John rarely used a tent, preferring the ease of sleeping under the stars. But now he thought Maire might like a little privacy from the eyes of the night.
In the same time, John started a fire. They had nothing but the jerky they brought with them to eat, but at least they would have hot coffee. John took a cup to Maire as soon as it was ready. She cupped it with both hands and sipped. A genuine smile lit her face and Gus sighed in relief.
“Feeling poorly?” he asked her.
“Sore, but not all that bad.”
“Tomorrow, one of us will go out and scout. The other will sit here with you until you recover.” John went back to the fire and poured coffee for himself and Gus.
“Babysitting duty? I don’t think so,” she said, glaring at John.
John frowned back. “You’ll be lucky to be able to walk tomorrow, much less sit a saddle.”
She took another sip. “We’ll see.”
“I won’t endanger you.” John stood ramrod straight. Gus had seen this before. It was the sign of a mile-wide stubborn streak. He took a fortifying gulp of coffee and moved closer so he could see their expressions through the twilight. Who would win this exchange?
“I told you I could handle whatever you and Gus do, and I will.”
“You’re a woman. I don’t expect you to keep up with two men.”
Gus cringed. John had never been married, but even he should have known not to go down that trail.
“I can do it,” Maire said between gritted teeth.
“I won’t let you.”
“You have little to say in the matter of what I do or do not do.” She put down her cup and struggled to stand. He started forward, but a sharp look from her made him stop. She took a deep breath when she was upright and took small, obviously painful steps to the tent flap. “Good night,” she said. Then she stopped. “And remember that I love you.” She disappeared inside. A groan told him that she’d sunk to the sleeping bag he’d spread out.
Gus shook his head. “She’s a match for your stubbornness,” he told John.
“Do you think I made her mad?” John’s brows wrinkled in worry. Gus was struck by how much John cared for Maire, cared what she thought, and especially what she thought of him.
“She’s not mad. She’s in pain from riding, and she’s tired, and duty bound to see through what she told Pavati she would do.”
“She would be a good addition to the Clan.”
Curious, Gus turned to him. “You think she would be accepted? Along with the two of us?”
John sighed. “No. They wouldn’t understand. I’m not sure I do.”
Darkness surrounded them, and Gus could only see John’s face by the firelight. He looked worried, and a little sad. “She loves us,” he told his friend. “We won’t be able to live with the Whites or the Clan unless one of us gives her up.” He gazed into his cup, debating whether he should share. “I had a dream last night. I was on four feet. I had fur.”
John nodded and pursed his lips. “Iisaw. The coyote.”
“I found Maire lying on the desert floor. I changed into my human form but mounted her from the back.”
“She allowed you?”
“She welcomed me. She rolled over and presented her ass. The impression was so strong I came in my sleep.”
“I also had a dream. A few nights ago. She and I were high in the sky, flying over the mesa. Then I flew beside her as a man and while high over the Clan’s land, we mated.” The men exchanged looks. “She is ours,” John said.
Gus looked into the night and hesitated only a moment. “For life.”
Chapter Fourteen
Her dream ended abruptly, bringing her awake panting with need. Gus had been on her and then John. She didn’t know who she was kissing, who penetrated her, who suckled her nipple to the point of making her want to scream. She’d been so close to releasing the coil of tension in her belly. Fire raged through her veins, and she had no way to end it. Then she became aware of the cold.
Another body molded itself to her back, prodding her behind with its erection. John or Gus? It didn’t matter, really. Moving brought back the ache of muscles overused, but she didn’t care. She wanted to move, had to move. She’d woken needing warmth and comfort, and these men had given it to her. Now she needed relief of a different kind, from a different kind of ache.
“May I?” John asked from in front of her. He had started pulling up the skirt of her dress.
“I’ll help,” she said.
“No,” Gus said from behind her. “Let us.”
“All right,” she whispered.
Each touch built the fire higher within. John unbuttoned her bodice and moved down so that he could reach her nipple with his mouth. She held his head and arched her back to feed him her breast.
Gus slipped his hand under the waistband of the trousers and slid them over her hips. She moved back and forth to help him push them down her legs and off, rubbing his cock with each twist and turn.
How the men removed their clothes without her being aware she couldn’t say, but they managed. Gus kneaded her behind, pulling her butt cheeks apart and grinding them together. He slid his fingers along her crack, down and forward where he found her pussy, dripping wet first from her dream and now from their caresses.
John reached down and pressed her clitoris, that sensitive spot that made her want to scream. Gus inserted his fingers into her pussy, bringing forth more cream, spreading it over her folds and back to her butt.
Again, he went for cream to spread on her backside, and then he massaged it in, pressing against her hole, asking for entrance. The sensation was beyond anything she could have imagined. She pressed back on his finger. Then she didn’t have to press—he probed, gently but deliberately. John took Gus’s place in her pussy. He lightly bit her breast, and a sharp burst of pain joined the immeasurable pleasure assailing her at every point of her body.
Gus had his finger in her ass. Holy Father! How had she arrived at this spot?
By all the saints, can I remain like this forever?
Gus stretched her opening, not unpleasantly. John licked her nipple. Gus nipped her shoulder. And she touched them both. Her hand skimmed down John’s back, feeling the ripple of muscle and tension in his shoulders as he gave her all his attention. She reached back and cupped Gus’s head, and then turned her head to kiss him mindlessly. For she truly was mindless, acting on instinct and passion alone. She rode John’s fingers and invited Gus to enter her ass. Her entire body was nothing more than one huge nerve, alternating between throbbing need and exploding with the thrill of the next level to which they took her.
As one, they moved into place. John pulled her knee high on his hip and lifted her slightly onto his body. When Gus fitted himself to her ass, she understood why.
Her face pressed against John’s shoulder, she smelled nothing but him, his freshness, his maleness, leather, and horse. She reveled in the scent.
Gus pushed into her slowly. A bit of discomfort accompanied his entrance, but she didn’t care. She needed relief. Being between them had become its own special torment. She pushed back.
“Not too fast, sweetheart.” He sounded pained and breathless. She knew just how he felt.
“Please,” she said. “Please, please, please.” If begging would make it happen, she wasn’t above it.
“Oh, hell,” Gus said and pushed a little harder.
At the same time, John entered her pussy with one strong thrust, both filling her completely and aiding Gus’s efforts.
“That’s it,” Gus muttered. “Almost there, almost…” His grunt of satisfaction told her was seated.
Seated in my seat. She wanted to giggle, but then they started to move and the world fell away.
They had a rhythm, in and out together, both filling her, both leaving her bereft. She wanted to participate, move along with them, but there was no way. They trapped her, a captive animal in rut who let herself go to whatever they wanted of her. John muttered something in Hopi before tracing her lips with two fingers. She sucked them into her mouth, laving them with her tongue. He drove into her, scraping her breasts with each thrust. Gus gasped for air.
A coyote howled from the bluff above them. Another answered, so near their tent his pants could be heard through the canvas. She closed her eyes and pictured an eagle, the very one she somehow knew flew above them at that moment. The men met inside her, dominating her very being, her mind, body, and soul.
The eagle had her in its talons, but there was no pain. Only the feel of the wind in her face. The soft fur of the coyote covered her, keeping her from cold, and the darkness of the sky was punctuated with brilliant diamonds. Below was the desert, so different from her home place in the Carolina mountains. She saw a stream, a rise of land, a brace of trees.
John groaned. Gus grunted. John took his fingers from her mouth so he could hold on to her, pull her closer. Gus did the same. The dam of emotion broke. The eagle released her. She caught one desperate breath and then fell, fell, fell until blackness claimed her.
When next she opened her eyes, she lay alone, fully dressed. Dawn seeped under the tent. Had she dreamed everything—the first dream finished without satisfaction, the second filled with wild, unbelievable passion?
She tried to get up, and the sharp soreness from her backside said she had not dreamed it all. Gingerly she sat up, and then crawled out of the canvas haven. When she looked up, she stared directly into the scowling face of Gray Deer.
* * * *
“I will not talk in front of the woman,” Masichuvio stated flatly in Hopi.
John would understand his Clansman’s reluctance to discuss what would typically be men’s affairs in front of a woman, but would Maire? Gus watched to see what happened next. He would step in if John—or Maire—needed him, but this was Indian business, and he tended to bide his time in those cases.
He’d been surprised when he had emerged from the tent about half an hour before and found Masichuvio and Mochni sitting outside. Gus had nodded and proceeded to make a fire for coffee.
John had exited a few minutes later. He and his Clansmen had chatted about this and that ever since, having a polite, introductory conversation in the way of the Hopi, before bringing up important topics. Topics like Masichuvio’s neck and the noose the Army had waiting for it. Maybe Gus was a coward for hoping that Maire would sleep through the visit, but he knew things could be awkward with her there. Indians didn’t like talking in front of women.
“I vouch for her. You can speak,” John said. He stood tall, feet apart and arms crossed. Masichuvio stood and assumed the same position. They glared at each other. Gus shook his head and frowned. Goddamn stubborn men.
“Gray Deer,” Maire began, fully emerging from the tent and taking her place beside John, “I’m here to help you.”
Masichuvio didn’t spare her a glance. Finally, John translated. Gus happened to know that Masichuvio understood passable English. He just never chose to demonstrate it.
John looked down at Maire. “He says he doesn’t need it.”
“He needs it,” Maire muttered. Louder, she asked John, “Does he know the Army wants to hang him for killing one of their men?”
Without waiting for a translation, Masichuvio spat out a few words and slashed his arm down.
“So you do know you’re in trouble,” John said to the renegade. “And that’s why you’re running. How do you know they can’t prove you killed that man?”
Masichuv
io hesitated and then reluctantly answered. “I was on Navajo land. I was seen there.” He stuck out his chin, challenging John to say anything.
“If you were in Navajo country causing trouble,” John continued, “how did your medicine pouch end up in the hands of a dead man twenty miles away?”
Instinctively, Masichuvio reached for the pouch that normally hung around his neck. His hand fell back, empty. When he spoke, his tone was quieter. “It's been gone since the full moon.”
“He says he lost it the day after the hunting party set out,” John translated for Maire.
“Who would have been around to pick it up? Did anyone leave the group to hunt alone?”
“It’s not uncommon for smaller groups to break away from the hunting party for a day or two, or even for one man to go out alone,” John explained. He looked at Gus, and his eyes spoke volumes. Everything about the Indian shouted guilt, but there was a certain reluctance in John’s gaze.
“Please tell us what happened, Gray Deer,” Maire cried. “Clear Water loves you. Are you going to make her a widow just when she hopes to be your wife?”
Gus caught a gleam in Mochni’s eyes. “Pavati? What do you know of her?” Mochni said.
Gus translated. “I know that she regards you as a good friend, Talking Bird,” Maire said quietly.
“Are you a friend?” Gus demanded in Hopi.
Mochni huffed a dismissive sound. Slowly, however, Masichuvio turned to face him. “You went off alone after we’d followed tracks into Navajo country. We separated for three days. Where were you?”
“You know where I was. Releasing horses from pens, scattering sheep. Same as you.”
Masichuvio thought for a moment, and then held out his hand. “Show me your knife.”
Fear flashed through Mochni’s eyes. “Why?” But eventually he did take a knife from its sheath and hand it over. Masichuvio only spared it a glance. He kept his gaze on Mochni, giving the knife to John instead.