White Dove

by Susan Edwards

  Jeremy rolled over and jumped to his feet. Though he didn’t appreciate her showing him up twice in a matter of minutes, he couldn’t help but admire her. Besides, it was just as well. Whenever he touched Dove, the blood from his brain drained to a different part of him.

  Picking up his hat, which had fallen from his head when he’d tackled her, he asked, “What do you want? You should not be alone with me.” He knew from Striking Thunder that courting couples were always supervised, and from his body’s reaction, that wasn’t a bad thing.

  Shrugging, Dove’s eyes lit with mischief. “You are family.”

  He choked and stumbled. “Like hell. I’m courting you. What I feel toward you is not how a brother or cousin would feel, and you know it.”

  Dove swept her hand up and down, indicating his clothing. “You cannot court me until you become a warrior. You dress as a white man.”

  Jeremy frowned. His clothes did make him feel out of place. “It’s all I have.” He’d meant to ask his sister how to go about getting the proper attire but had put it off. In truth, he wasn’t all that eager to wear only a bit of hide or cloth tied about his waist. During the cold, rainy weather, he’d been relieved to see warriors wearing breeches—until he realized they were only leggings, just two sheaths for each leg that tied to their waists.

  The shirts, especially the fringed buckskin, looked appealing though. “I’ll ask Jess.”

  “I have all you need.” She held out her bundle.

  Surprised, Jeremy glanced from the folded clothing to Dove. “You made these?”

  She laughed and took the first item and shook out a long length of dark green cloth. “This is from your sister. She brought many yards of the white man’s trade cloth for gifts.” She handed it to him along with a length of buckskin thong.

  “These are leggings. They come from Tanagila. You will have to pay her two hides in return.”

  Those, too, were slung over his arm. He reached for the moccasins, listened to her tell him who had provided them and what he was expected to pay. “No problem. I’ll go hunting.” He grinned at her. “That, I’m good at.”

  She lifted a brow. “With your bow and arrow. Though my people have no objection to using the white man’s guns, we prefer to hunt with our bows. We save guns for battles with our enemy. Here.”

  Jeremy took the last item from her. It was a soft buckskin shirt with a great deal of fringe. “And who do I pay for this?”

  Looking uncomfortable, Dove refused to meet his gaze. “It belongs to me—a gift for my brother.”

  “It’s wonderful. And what do I owe you for this?”

  “It is a gift. One you can take with you when you leave,” Dove added quietly.

  Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, when I leave?”

  Dove shrugged. “You will not stay, no matter what you say. You will return to your world of wooden houses.”

  Stroking the soft, buttery hide, Jeremy studied her. “You don’t think I can do this, do you?”

  This time, Dove met his gaze squarely. “It doesn’t matter. You will tire of our life and leave.”

  Jeremy longed to argue with her, but realized words wouldn’t convince her. Actions, in this case, would speak louder. He had to prove to her that he was serious about all this, and the only way to do that was to rise to each of her challenges and become a warrior. He had to earn her respect before he could earn her love.

  “Time will tell, Dove. Thank you for the clothing.”

  She indicated the garments. “You will become Sioux.”

  “I will put them on in the morning.” He gulped. The time had come. In the morning, he’d lose the last outward sign of his white heritage. He set the bundle of clothing down, glanced around and spotted the cubs playing with a beetle near the stream.

  “You will become Sioux now.” The gleam in her eyes challenged him.

  Stalling, Jeremy indicated his filthy body. “I need a bath before I put these on.” The truth of the matter was he didn’t trust himself to behave with her so close, with the feel of her still lingering on him.

  Openly mocking now, Dove grinned. “You think to delay. You are ashamed of your body.”

  “No, I’m not.” Ashamed was not the word. He’d just never gone about half-naked in front of strangers before. He didn’t count his siblings or the few women he’d bedded.

  “Then shed your white man’s hayapi. Return to my people this evening dressed not as a white man, but as a true Lakota Sioux.”

  He could tell that once more Dove was challenging him, hoping to find weakness in his desire to become a warrior. He squared his shoulders. “Then leave and I will change.”

  Dove gave him a wicked grin and sat on the ground. She pointed downstream to where a clump of bushes offered a bit of privacy. “I will watch the cubs while you bathe and dress.”

  Knowing he had no choice unless he wanted to endure her scorn, he grabbed the garments—hayapi—if he understood her use of the term for clothing, and strode past the cubs.

  Behind the sheltering brush, he stripped naked and entered the stream, fighting back a curse as the cold swallowed him whole, yet grateful for the cooling of his heated body. Making haste, conscious of the woman just out of sight, he surfaced and scrubbed his hair with his hands to loosen bits of grass and dirt. Finished, he waded out, water streaming down his body. Using his flannel shirt, he dried himself as best he could, then picked up the green trade cloth and stared at it.

  Resigning himself, he tied the thong around his waist. During the winter, he’d seen the boys dressing after their morning baths, so he had a good idea how to fashion the breechclout. Tucking the middle of the cloth between his legs, he threaded the ends through the thong, front and back, then pulled it snug. Running his hands along the edges against his groin, he adjusted the cloth so his privates lay snugly concealed. Glancing down with relief, he saw that his front was covered by two feet of hanging cloth.

  He twisted around and tried to check out his backside. Judging from the swish of material there against his bare legs, it was even with the front. Facing forward, glancing around to be sure he was alone in the growing twilight, he used his hands to feel the fit in the back. He winced. The cloth didn’t quite cover his butt. He’d been afraid of this.

  Strangely enough, the caress of cool air moving over his backside, between his legs almost in a caressing manner, made him shiver—with pleasure rather than cold. No doubt. It felt good, reminded him of his boyhood when he and his siblings had been small and allowed to run around without clothes in the evenings to dry after their baths.

  But he wasn’t a boy now; he was a man, and a very exposed-feeling one who wasn’t sure he could go back and join the others dressed only in a breechclout. One step at a time, he assured himself. Though his body seemed to whole-heartedly enjoy the freedom of movement, his ego knew this would take some getting used to.

  Quickly, he slid the shirt over his head, reveling in the soft smooth feel of the buckskin. Holding his arms out, he grinned at the swaying fringe. Bringing his arm to his nose, he sniffed. Honey and sunshine—White Dove’s scent. He sighed. Next came the leggings, which took a few minutes to figure out.

  Finally warm, but feeling as though he’d lost the seat of his pants, he hesitantly stepped out from the bushes. Feeling incredibly vulnerable, he forced himself to stand still, to act with nonchalance, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “I think you cut this too narrow, Dove. My behind—”

  He cut himself off, burning with embarrassment when he saw the sparkle lurking in her bright eyes. “Don’t you dare laugh.” He took another step forward, and to his dismay, one of the leggings slid down his leg.

  “Here, let me.” With a wicked grin, she approached and took the ties from his cold fingers.

  The warmth of her fingers against his skin h
eated his blood to a boil. After she knotted the ties, she redid his other side, then walked around him. Knowing there was very little of his backside hidden to her eyes made it difficult for him to stand still. Standing in the open, in plain view of anyone who chose to walk past with so much of him revealed, made him feel awkward.

  After a moment, he grew even more uncomfortable. His body was reacting to the knowledge that Dove was looking at him, seeing him as a man. A nearly naked one. “Well?” His voice dropped to a low pitch. Damn, this was hard. All he wanted to do at this moment was to turn and pull Dove into his arms.

  * * *

  Behind Jeremy, Dove gulped at the sight of his behind. As she’d suspected, his skin was white, twin globes with a sliver of a crescent moon on either side of the cloth. Instead of finding the pale skin repulsive, she longed to touch it. Putting her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat. “Looks right to me,” she said. Her voice broke when he shifted, the cloth swaying with his movement to reveal more strong, muscled flesh. He looked more than right to her.

  Jeremy turned slowly, his gaze searching hers. Unable to glance away, Dove remembered how he’d felt sitting on top of her, the feel of those buttocks crushed against her womanhood. She’d had to fight the urge to lift her hips to his and bring them even closer.

  “Do I look Sioux?” He stepped forward.

  She took a step back. “Yes.” The admission escaped before she could come up with some scathing retort to put distance back between them. With his dark hair hanging down to his shoulders, and dressed as one of them, he looked more Sioux than she did.

  “You’re not laughing,” he said softly, his green eyes dark and burning.

  “No—” It was all she got out.

  “Good.” He reached for her and drew her to him. “Then being buck naked is worth it. If I look Sioux, now I can court you.” His voice dropped. “And part of courting is kissing.”

  Their mouths were only a breath apart. “You’re not naked.” But Dove found herself wishing he was. She wanted to see him and touch him. Her hands slid up his shirt—the shirt that she’d made for him during the winter, one she’d expected to be a parting gift. She’d die before she told him, but it pleased her that the garment fit like a second skin.

  “My backside is practically naked.” His mouth touched hers.

  “It’s a nice backside,” she whispered, spellbound by the desire in his eyes. Memories of their last kiss haunted her each night when she closed her eyes. During the days, she concentrated on their differences, drove him hard during his lessons and remembered all the reasons why they were ill-suited. But during the dark quiet of the night, none of her logical arguments seemed to matter.

  None of it mattered now. His hands slid up her neck to frame her face, and he moved closer. She felt the heat of his body against hers when she leaned forward and rested against him. She tipped her head back and drank in the sight of his smoky-green eyes and full, sensual lips.

  “Jeremy.” The single word held a wealth of longing. How he did this to her, what white man’s magic he used, she didn’t understand. She only knew that right now, nothing mattered except the way she felt when he held her.

  “My sweet, brave Dove.” Jeremy lowered his head.

  Dove gripped his shoulders when his mouth fastened over hers, hard and demanding. Fluttering sensations in her stomach traveled to the junction between her legs as she gave herself over to his touch. Before, their kisses had started off gentle and were tender explorations. This kiss differed. Hunger drove it.

  Reaching up, Dove wrapped her arms around Jeremy’s neck. Their passion exploded, leaving her weak-kneed and breathless. He kissed her with a hunger that shattered the coat of control she’d maintained since their last kiss. Desire spiraled through her. She moaned and dug her fingers into his scalp. One of his hands fisted in her hair. The other traveled down her back, leaving a wake of fire along her spine.

  Lifting his head, his lips slid along her jaw and down her throat. She tipped her head back, her hands traveling around to the sides of his face.

  “You taste so good, Dove. So sweet.” His teeth scraped along her throat, making her shiver.

  “Kiss me, again, Jeremy.” She needed him. Wanted his touch, his loving.

  His head lifted. Afraid he was going to stop, Dove pulled his mouth back to hers. But he resisted her attempt to kiss. Instead, he nibbled on her lower lip, drew the tender flesh into his mouth and suckled. She cried out at the growing ache between her legs, which now throbbed with need. She wrapped one leg around his thigh, seeking to get closer to him.

  “God, Dove, we have to stop.”

  “No,” she whispered against his mouth, tracing his lips with her tongue. She’d fought this for so long, yet it felt so good. Seeing him dressed as one of her people, she found hope that…

  He groaned, the deep sound vibrating through her. Boldly, she nipped at his lower lip. Over and over, she teased him until he wrapped both arms around her, pulled her so close she felt his heart pounding against her swollen and tender breasts. He kissed her, forcing her lips open with his thrusting tongue.

  The kiss challenged, rewarded her as she instinctively followed his lead in a private duel that sent jolts of desire crashing through her. Like lightning striking the ground, she sizzled with a burning need she’d never felt. It scared her, but it also thrilled her. When his hands roamed down over her back and rested on her buttocks, hers followed suit. Lost to all but the feel of him, the taste of him as he kissed her, Dove’s fingers followed the edge of cloth from his waist to bare flesh. He felt warm, a mixture of soft and hard.

  His hips shifted, and she felt the hard length of his arousal. She moaned and pressed forward with her pelvis. She ached for him, knew enough about the relationship between men and women to know that he could ease her need, as she could ease his.

  Jeremy shifted her slightly to the side. Ready to protest, she sucked in a breath when she felt his hand move to her breast. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to his touch, his kiss. With no warning, he ended the kiss and stepped back, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath.

  “Tell me that we aren’t right for each other. Tell me there is, or could be, another man who makes you feel the way I do.”

  Doused with stark reality, Dove stared at Jeremy in horror. What had she done? She’d sought him out to give him clothing. Secretly she’d wanted—expected—to emphasize their differences. Every time she was with him she sought to carry out that goal: show him what he had to learn, overwhelm him, confuse him, make him see that he sought the impossible in seeking to become Lakota, to woo her.

  Yet once more, her body had betrayed her. Her plan had gone all wrong. She stumbled back. “I seek more from a marriage.” She sought…she sought… Unable to recall what she sought in a warrior, she backed away. The truth could not be denied: she wanted Jeremy with a fierce need, but it hurt to know she could have him but not keep him. And nothing he could say would convince her that he would stay, even if she gave him her love.

  “Your body does not lie, Dove.” He glanced down at himself. “Neither does mine. Take a good look at what you do to me.” He stood his ground, not bothering to hide the swollen evidence of his desire.

  Dove swallowed at the bulge behind the flap of trade cloth. “It’s not enough.” She shuddered, her body shaking with unfulfilled need. She would not allow herself to fall into his trap. “Desire is not enough.”

  “But marriage without love and passion is wrong, Dove—a sin committed against one’s own heart.” Walking to the water’s edge, Jeremy turned his back on her and stared out across the stream. “I have my answer. In my heart, I know we are meant to be. I will prove this to you.”

  Her gaze dipped to the pale skin visible on either side of his breechclout, then up to the width of his shoulders, and back down, descending the line of his b
ack to his long, strong legs. With effort, she stared at the ground at her feet. “What good will it do for me to give you my heart? You won’t stay.” She bravely threw the words at him, struggling to pull her protective shield of control back in place.

  He turned. “Why are you so convinced I won’t stay? You don’t know me, won’t even give yourself—or me—a chance. You’ve already judged me. I can’t blame you for some of the opinions you’ve already made. When I’m around you, I don’t think so well. But it’s different now. I’m different.” He held his arms out to the side. “Here, there are no expectations. No barriers. For the first time in my life I feel free. I am starting over.”

  She stepped back one step, nearly tripping over one of the gamboling bear cubs. “You are free. You can stay. Or leave. For me, there is no such choice. This is where I belong.”

  His expression grew determined. “If you marry me, I will stay with you, and follow you wherever you go.” His voice softened. “I have no place to call my own. I belong with you. I will walk by your side.”

  “You walk like a wasicun.” Her voice trembled.

  “I will learn to walk like a Sioux.” His voice remained firm, and he stepped toward her, reaching out to curl a long strand of her drying hair around one hand. He gave a gentle tug, coaxing her back to him. “All I ask is that you give me a chance. I understand now what you need. And only with me will you find it.” He brought her hair to his lips.

  Her pulse jumped. Again she felt herself falling under his bewitching spell. She shook her head, freeing her hair from his touch. Standing her ground, refusing to back away, to run from him, she tipped her chin up and narrowed her eyes. “You do not know what I need,” she scoffed. “Tell me, White Man, what do you think this maiden wants or needs?”

  Jeremy reached out and framed her face between strong, warm hands. His thumbs caressed her temple. “You need a man who will not challenge who you are.” He planted a single kiss on her forehead. “One who will accept your great skills and not try to prove he is better than you.” Another kiss landed on the tip of her nose. “You need a man you can relax with, be yourself with.”