Half-Breed's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  At her offering, Hunt forgot any thought of caution or stopping. This was their wedding night. They were man and wife.

  He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the waiting blankets. He had longed for this moment ever since he'd first seen her, and, finally, she would be his.

  Kiss followed heated kiss as he laid her on the blankets and followed her down, covering her body with his own. Glynna gloried in the hot weight of him upon her. She had never known such intimacy or such delight.

  His lips left hers to explore the sweetness of her throat. The path they forged was searing and exciting.

  At the thrill of his lips' caress, Glynna arched against Hunt in an instinctive invitation he could not resist. When Hunt sought the sweet weight of her breast in a bold touch, she gasped at the pleasure his hand created within her. The feelings he was arousing within her were wild and reckless. She wanted to know more, needed to know more. She began to caress him, sculpting the muscles of his back and shoulders with her hands, tracing paths of fire over him as she moved against him in a natural, age-old rhythm.

  Hunt groaned. He knew she was an innocent, but in her naivete, she was more exciting than the most practiced lover. Unable to tolerate the barrier of their clothing between them any longer, he moved away from Glynna for a moment to help her shed the dress.

  "Hunt?" She didn't understand why he had stopped kissing her, and she gazed up at him in breathless, confused bewilderment.

  He didn't speak but simply reached for her. She offered no resistance as he lifted the hem of the dress and pulled over her head. He tossed the garment aside and took the time to gaze down at her as she lay back. Her beauty was bared to him for the first time. The fire that was burning within him was nearly uncontrollable. Glynna was perfection, from her high, firm breasts to the gentle swell of her hips and long, shapely legs. He ached to be one with her. He needed to be one with her.

  The night air was cool upon her as Glynna lay back on the blankets. She was trembling, but it wasn't from the temperature. She was trembling from the look in Hunt's eyes as he gazed down at her. It was smoldering and raw, revealing his barely leashed desire.

  "Hunt," she said softly as she lifted her arms to him to welcome him back.

  Hunt went to her, holding her close as he kissed her. Only Glynna existed in his world. He sought only to pleasure her, seeking out her most sensitive areas with knowing caresses and rousing her to greater and greater heights of excitement. When his lips sought her breasts, Glynna gasped in surprise at the intimate touch. His mouth was hot and demanding upon her silken skin. She clutched him to her as the spiraling ache deep in the womanly heart of her grew almost intolerable.

  Hunt could no longer bear to be separate from her. He moved away again just long enough to shed his own clothing.

  Glynna watched as he undressed, and she was mesmerized as she stared at him unclad for the first time. He was the essence of raw male beauty. His shoulders and chest were wide and ridged with heavy muscles. His waist was lean, his legs long and straight. The proof of his masculinity intrigued her, even as she felt some embarrassment, for she had never seen a naked man before. Still, she thought him strong and powerful and beautiful. He was her warrior. He was her love. He was her husband.

  A distant warning came to Hunt, telling him to stop now while there was still time, to save himself from the pain he would ultimately have to face in returning her to the white world and giving her up, but he ignored it. Glynna was gazing up at him, wanting him, needing him, just as he wanted and needed her. He threw all caution aside. He would live for the moment this moment with Glynna. It would be worth it. He would celebrate what they had, here and now. He would love her while he could. He would face the pain later.

  Hunt didn't say a word, but went to her, fitting himself to her velvet softness. He began to kiss and caress her again, rousing her to new heights, teasing her with promises of the ecstasy he knew could be theirs. When he moved between her thighs and sought the heart of her, she stiffened, frightened and unsure of what was to come.

  "Easy, love," he told her. "It will hurt for only a moment."

  She answered him with a fiery kiss, inviting him to teach her the ways of love.

  Hunt could wait no longer. Slowly he pressed forward, entering her, sheathing himself in her. He claimed the proof of her innocence and made her his in all ways.

  The ecstasy of being one with Glynna was more exquisite than he could ever have believed. He lay quietly, holding her close, their bodies joined, waiting for her to adjust to the newness of their union. When he felt the tension ease from her, he captured her lips in an urgent kiss and began to caress her again. He started to move, gently at first to teach her the rhythm, then more quickly as he was caught up in the searing intensity of their mating.

  Glynna had been surprised by the pain she'd experienced when Hunt had made her his, but as he began to move within her, the pain lessened and then disappeared. It was replaced by a growing, aching need only he could satisfy. She found herself meeting him in his thrusting pace and reveling in his response to her movements. A feeling unlike anything she'd ever felt before began to fill her, taking her higher and higher, coiling ever tighter in its intensity. She wrapped her arms around Hunt, and when he reached down to lift her hips to his to guide her, she gave a moan of pure pleasure. Delight coursed through her. Caught up in the glory of their joining, she rode with him to ecstasy and beyond, crying out as he took her for the first time to the heights of pure rapture.

  Hunt had never known loving could bring such ecstasy. They reached the peak of love's perfection together and then drifted on the aftermath, locked tightly in each other's arms, their bodies still one.

  "I love you," Glynna whispered.

  Hunt answered her with a cherishing kiss. It was long minutes later before he finally moved away from her. He kept her by his side, though, her head on his shoulder, her hand splayed on his chest, one leg resting across his thigh. She was a part of him. He never wanted to let her go.

  Glynna was so overcome by the glory of what had passed between them that she lay against him in a haze of sensual bliss. She did not know what chain of events had led her to become this man's wife and to have her wedding night in a renegade Comanche dwelling deep in the heart of Texas, but she was there, and she was happy. Living in New York as she did, she would never have guessed that her life would lead her here, but she was thrilled.

  A vague thought of Edmund intruded, but it did not distress her. She could not imagine sharing with Edmund what she and Hunt had just experienced. What she felt for Edmund was friendship and nothing more. She knew that now. What she felt for Hunt was pure love and physical attraction. He was devastatingly handsome, and she was certain he was a wonderful lover. She let her eyes drift shut as she relaxed in his embrace. This was Hunt. She loved him.

  Hunt lay staring off into the darkness. Making love to Glynna had been as magnificent as he'd imagined it would be. The feel of her nestled at his side sleeping filled him with intense emotion. He had made love to her. He knew it might ultimately prove to have been a disastrous decision for him, but he didn't care. Loving Glynna had been glorious. She had been responsive and eager and perfect. He wondered what he'd ever done to deserve her. At the thought that they might have a future together, he stopped. Neither of them knew what the future held. But for at least for this short period, he could claim her as his, and love her.

  And he did.

  Throughout the long hours of the night, Hunt took her again and again, unable to resist the sweetness of her passion, the joy of her rapture, the pleasure he found deep within her body.

  Glynna lost all thoughts of shyness as she learned more of how to please Hunt. She was his equal, evoking exciting responses from him as she explored the secrets of his need, arousing him, teasing him, and ultimately slaking his desire, until shortly before dawn they both collapsed in ecstasy's aftermath, sated and well loved.

  They slept on into the daylight hours,
securely wrapped in each other's arms. Safe in their refuge, they had no cares, no worries. They had only each other. The tepee was their own private heaven.

  Glynna awoke first. It was morning, and the village was stirring around them. She savored the warmth of Hunt's nearness and the memories they'd created through the night. She had known from his first kiss that day at the ranch that what she felt for him was powerful, but she'd had no idea that loving him would be so completely overwhelming. He had taken her innocence; yet, in doing so, he had given her a gift far more precious-he had given her his love.

  A soft smile curved her lips as she watched Hunt sleep beside her. Her gaze lovingly traced his features. He was boldly handsome in a rugged way. His skin was bronzed from the sun; his features were strong and proud. While he slept, she saw a vulnerability about him that she had never seen before. He was a cautious man, a guarded man. She wanted to plumb the depths of his heart and soul. She wanted to know everything about him. She loved him. He was her husband.

  Glynna managed to slip away from Hunt's side without disturbing him. She put the dress back on, and then quickly retrieved her sketchbook and pencil. Settling in across the tepee, she began to draw Hunt. It was a labor of love, capturing the gentleness he revealed only while sleeping. With great care, she worked at the drawing, losing herself in the pure joy of it.

  Hunt came awake slowly. He immediately realized that Glynna was no longer pressed against him, and he rolled to his side, wanting to draw her back to him. Instead of finding her slumbering peacefully beside him, he saw her sitting across the tepee, frowning in concentration as she worked on the sketch she was making.

  Glynna sensed that he was stirring. She looked up and smiled to see that he was finally awake. "Good morning."

  "Yes, it is," Hunt agreed in a warm, sensuous voice. "What are you drawing?"

  "You."

  He held a hand out to her. "Let me see the picture."

  Glynna went to show him. He studied the likeness of himself.

  "Do I look like this when I'm asleep?"

  "Yes. You look very handsome, but I think I like you awake better." She leaned over him and kissed him sweetly.

  "I know I like being awake better."

  "You must have been tired, to sleep so long," she said, a small smile playing about her lips. She put her sketchbook and pencil aside.

  "Not anymore," he said, his voice turning husky with emotion as he reached for her. "But you're welcome to try to wear me out again, if you want."

  She gave a throaty laugh and surrendered to his demanding caresses. Her last logical thought before she was swept away by his storming of her senses was that one day she would have to capture this part of him on the canvas-the lover, whose touch was ecstasy and whose kiss was heaven.

  It was some time later when they finally dressed and left the tepee. The other warriors in the village gave Hunt knowing looks of approval, while the women thought Vision Woman was quite lucky.

  Crouching Wolf barely stayed in control as he watched Lone Hunter and Vision Woman together.

  Tall Grass was with him, and asked, "Why is this woman so important to you? There are many women in the village who would take you as a husband."

  He shot Tall Grass a hate-filled look, but did not answer. No woman had ever escaped him before. No woman had ever hit him and gotten away with it.

  Tall Grass left him to sulk alone. After he'd gone, Crouching Wolf reached up and touched the wound she'd inflicted on him. This woman needed to be taught a lesson.

  Crouching Wolf was pleased when his chance to find her alone came sooner than he'd thought. He saw Lone Hunter ride off with Painted Horse. Vision Woman retrieved the clothes she'd left near the stream and returned to the tepee by herself. Glancing around, he found that there was no one near, and he smiled at his good fortune. He would wait no longer. The need within him was strong.

  Glynna had come back to the tepee to await Hunt's return. He had gone out for a ride with Painted Horse, for his cousin had wanted to put Warrior to the test. She took up her sketchbook and was about to go out to the campfire and start some new sketches when she looked up and saw Crouching Wolf coming through the doorway of the dwelling.

  "What do you want?" she asked, backing up a step, not trusting him.

  Crouching Wolf stood staring at her, enjoying the fear he saw in her expression. He wanted her to be afraid of him. He wanted her to beg him for mercy. He didn't approach her, but waited like a sly predator to see what she would do.

  "I'll scream if you come any closer! Lone Hunter will kill you if you touch me!" she threatened.

  In one blindingly fast move, he crossed the tepee and threw her to the ground. Her sketchbook fell from her grip. Glynna managed to cry out once before he brutally covered her mouth with his hand. With his other hand, he grabbed the neck of the buckskin dress and ripped it downward.

  "You will learn not to fight me, Vision Woman, or you will die like the other woman did at your campsite!" He snarled as he groped at her. His touch was rough, his fingers bruising and pinching her tender flesh.

  In abject horror, Glynna realized that Crouching Wolf had been the one who'd shot Aunt Mimi! How she hated him! She screamed her outrage, but his hand over her mouth stifled most of the sound. She twisted and bucked, trying to dislodge him, but his weight upon her was oppressive. Desperate to get away from his filthy pawing, Glynna managed to free one hand, and in one swift move she clawed at his face, tearing at him again where she'd struck him with the paint box.

  Her attack was painful and infuriated Crouching Wolf. He slapped her viciously. The force of his blow bruised her cheek, but she got the chance to cry out for help again. There was no one near enough to hear her and come to her aid, though.

  Hunt and Painted Horse hadn't ridden far when a strange feeling overtook Hunt. He reined in and looked over at his cousin.

  "Is something wrong?" Painted Horse asked. He had thought they would be going for a longer ride, and he wondered why they'd stopped so soon.

  "I need to go back. Something's wrong."

  "What could be wrong?"

  "I'm not sure. Did you see Crouching Wolf anywhere around when we rode out?"

  "No, I haven't seen him since early morning."

  He nodded tightly. "Neither have I, and that's what's bothering me."

  He wheeled the horse Painted Horse had given him around and rode for the village.

  Crouching Wolf liked some spirit in his women, but he was growing tired of Vision Woman's fighting. He was glad that no one had heard her scream. He didn't want to be interrupted. He pinned her to the ground and ripped at the dress again. He was hot for her, and he wanted to take her quickly and brutally, so she would remember it forever.

  Crouching Wolf was reaching down to free himself from his loincloth when, suddenly, harsh hands grabbed him from behind, and he was thrown bodily from her. He looked up to see Lone Hunter standing over him.

  Crouching Wolf smiled cunningly at Lone Hunter's outraged expression, but even though he was smiling, all the passion had drained from him. Still, he did not show any discomfort.

  "We did not know you would be back so soon, Lone Hunter," he told him snidely in the Comanche tongue. "If Vision Woman and I had known, we would have gone someplace more private/'

  "Hunt!" Glynna ran to him, clutching her dress together to cover herself. "Thank God, you came back!"

  Hunt glanced down at her. He could see the bruises on her face and the marks on the pale flesh revealed by the torn dress. He put an arm around Glynna as he turned his deadly glare back to her attacker.

  "Do you always treat women so harshly, Crouching Wolf?" He deliberately spoke in English, so Glynna could understand what was being said.

  "Every woman enjoys a strong man," he answered in English, leering evilly at her. "Vision Woman said you were not man enough for her. She wanted me to show her the true way of a man and a woman. She invited me into the tepee. She spread her legs for me.

  "That's no
t true!" Glynna exclaimed, looking up at Hunt, her eyes wide with horror at the other man's lies.

  Hunt carefully put her from him and went to stand over Crouching Wolf. "You have not changed in all these years. You were a bad liar as a boy, and you are one now. A woman doesn't scream if she wants a man to take her."

  "She was screaming her pleasure," he said quickly.

  Hunt smiled at him. It was a deadly smile. "Get up. We will fight."

  Crouching Wolf got to his feet, his gaze lingering on Glynna where she huddled on the opposite side of the tepee. "When I have killed Lone Hunter, I will come back for you. Be ready."

  Hunt directed him outside. He turned back to Glynna. "Stay here." It was an order. He wanted her safe.

  Her gaze met Hunt's. She saw the fury and the determination in his eyes, and then he was gone.

  Glynna felt dirty and defiled from Crouching Wolfs assault. Holding the dress together in front, she got up to follow Hunt. Though he had told her to stay in the tepee, there was no way she would let him fight for her alone.

  Hunt and Crouching Wolf found Painted Horse riding up to the tepee when they went outside.

  "Painted Horse! Tie our wrists," Hunt told him as he dismounted before them.

  "You plan to fight? What happened?"

  "He attacked Glynna," he answered grimly.

  "Vision Woman wanted me. She came to me and begged me to take her,"' Crouching Wolf argued arrogantly.

  Painted Horse knew the truth and ignored his lies. "You will fight in the clearing."

  They made their way to the small, flat clearing nearby. The villagers saw what was happening and crowded around to watch. It wasn't often that there were such conflicts between the warriors.

  Using a leather thong, Painted Horse bound their left wrists tightly together. He then handed each man a knife. There were no rules to this fight.

  "To the death!" Crouching Wolf shouted as he lunged at Lone Hunter.

  Hunt proved too quick for him. He dodged his attack and jerked his arm with all his might, wanting his opponent to lose his footing.