by Connie Mason
Her sleek black hair danced around her waist as if it had a life of its own and her huge dark eyes appeared enormous in her small golden face. Her lips were generously curved and lush in a way that could only be described as sultry. The ornately beaded deerskin dress and moccasins she wore revealed rather than concealed her tall, voluptuous figure. If Summer Sky had been as lovely as her sister, Storm reasoned, it was no wonder Grady would accept no substitutes.
Laughing Brook was laughing happily as she ran to Grady and flung her arms around his neck, babbling in a language Storm assumed was Sioux.
“We will speak English for Storm’s benefit,” Grady said, unwinding her arms from around his neck. “Little Buffalo must become proficient in that language if he is to survive in the white world.” Then he turned to Storm, saying, “Storm, this is Laughing Brook, my sister-in-law. She has been caring for my son since my wife’s—since Summer Sky’s death. Laughing Brook, this is my wife, Storm. You must help her become acquainted with Little Buffalo, for she is now his mother.”
Laughing Brook’s smile dissipated into a pout. Her lower lip jutted out belligerently and her eyes glowed with a savage inner fire as they raked over Storm in an insolent manner. “She isn’t much to look at,” she said with a disdainful toss of her head. “Why is she so pale, Thunder?”
With her face and hands smudged with dirt and her hem dragging in the wet earth, Storm felt and looked like a bedraggled beggar woman compared to the resplendent Indian maiden. But Grady thought she was beautiful and would have said so if Storm hadn’t spoken up in her own defense.
“My skin has always been naturally pale. And,” she paused and shot Grady a fulminating look, “had I known when to expect my husband I would have made myself more presentable.”
Grady groaned inwardly. He could sense a storm brewing. “Take Little Buffalo inside the cabin, Laughing Brook. I wish to speak with Storm privately.”
Little Buffalo looked from Laughing Brook to Storm and then to his father. Astute for one so young, he recognized Laughing Brook’s scorn for the white woman his father had married and came to a decision. During the long trip from the reservation, Laughing Brook had filled his head with horror stories about the terrible things white women did to small Indian children, until he hated and feared Storm long before he met her. And now, following Laughing Brook’s example of icy disdain, he squinted up at Storm and said, “I don’t like you. I’ll never forgive you for marrying Papa. He should have married Laughing Brook. It is the custom of the People.”
Smirking spitefully, Laughing Brook grasped Little Buffalo’s hand and led him away, pleased by her small charge’s lack of respect toward the white woman she had hated on sight. She was unaware of Storm’s dismay and Grady’s dark scowl, but had she been it wouldn’t have mattered in the least. One thing Laughing Brook felt secure in was the love of Little Buffalo. And Little Buffalo was the most important person in the world to Thunder. It wouldn’t be long, Laughing Brook thought gleefully, before Thunder’s white wife was sent packing and she, Laughing Brook, would take her place. It was the way it should have been in the beginning, and would have been if Thunder had followed tribal custom.
Grady’s scowl darkened as he watched Laughing Brook and Little Buffalo disappear around the corner of the cabin. When he turned back to Storm, her scowl was nearly as ferocious as his.
“Why did you bring her?” Storm asked, still in a state of shock over Grady’s arrival with another woman in tow.
“I had no choice,” Grady said. “Little Buffalo resisted leaving the reservation and I thought it would make his leaving less painful if I brought along Laughing Brook. She is like a mother to the boy and separating them would have been cruel. When he is fully adjusted to his new home and to you I will send Laughing Brook back to her people.”
“How long do you suppose that will be?” Her sarcasm was not lost on Grady.
Grady shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Weeks? Months? Years? My God, Grady, can’t you see Laughing Brook doesn’t like me? She’ll poison your son against me if she remains. He already resents me.”
“How can you say that?” Grady challenged. “You just met her. And Little Buffalo will come around. He just turned six years old and is still a child in mind and body.”
“Little Buffalo will do as Laughing Brook says. He obviously loves her.”
“Perhaps,” Grady said cryptically, “but I have every confidence you will win him over. Meanwhile, separating him from Laughing Brook now will only confuse and upset him. Besides, I’ve always found Laughing Brook a warm and generous woman. First meetings are often deceptive. Given time she’ll adjust to the fact that you’re my wife.”
“There isn’t enough time in the world for that,” Storm muttered sourly. Lord help us all, she thought as she turned away.
“Storm.” He touched her shoulder and she swung around to face him, her eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“I hated you after you left me the way you did.”
The harsh planes of his face softened and his blue eyes grew luminous. “I had to. I thought you understood. It was the only way I could retain my honor. If I remained in that cabin with you the entire winter, not even my solemn vow could have kept me from loving you as my body demanded.”
Storm flushed and looked away, unable to face the stark reality of his words. “What—what now? You’ve come back. Does that mean you no longer want me in that way? Has Laughing Brook given you what you want? I don’t understand why you didn’t marry Laughing Brook. Obviously your son loves her, and it was more or less expected of you.”
“If I wanted Laughing Brook, I would have taken her long ago,” Grady said with quiet emphasis. “Dammit, Storm, didn’t you miss me at all?”
“Did you miss me?” Storm shot back.
If she could have looked into his heart, she would have heard his silent cry. I missed you like the morning misses the sunrise and the night misses the dawn. But he was a Lakota warrior and flowery phrases did not come easily to his lips. “You are my wife.”
“I’m surprised you remembered it.”
“Oh, lady, I remember. I remember more, much more. Like how wonderful you feel in my arms and how hotly you burn when my hands and mouth release the fire in you.”
“Grady …”
Suddenly she was in his arms, crushed tightly against the hard wall of his chest, crying out with the wonder of having every inch of his magnificent body pressed intimately against hers. It had been so long … so damn long.
Then he was claiming her mouth, shattering her thoughts with the hunger of his kisses, oblivious to the world around them. She savored the taste of him, of his tongue as it thrust into her mouth, and with sudden, painful insight she realized she would always want this man.
“Thunder, Little Buffalo is hungry. Shouldn’t your wife be fixing a meal for us?”
Grady’s frustrated groan brought Storm abruptly to her senses as she shot out of his arms. Laughing Brook had definitely picked the wrong time to intrude upon their privacy. Or had it been the right time? Obviously the Indian maiden knew exactly what she was doing.
“Laughing Brook is right,” Storm said, flushing. “You must all be hungry as well as tired. I’ll clean up at the river and be right in to fix you a meal.” She turned and hurried off before Grady could stop her.
“I don’t think your white wife likes me,” Laughing Brook said, bringing her full lips together in a sensual pout. “Obviously you didn’t learn your lesson after what the White Eyes did to my sister.”
“Storm had nothing to do with Summer Sky’s death.”
“She’s white.”
“I brought you here for Little Buffalo’s sake,” Grady said sternly, “and I won’t abide trouble from either you or Storm. I have made my choice. Storm is my wife; please treat her with the respect and courtesy due her.”
“Bah, a husband does not leave his wife so soon after marriage unless he is not pleased with her. My
eyes do not deceive me, Thunder. My heart tells me you are not pleased with your white wife. But I am not greedy. I will be your second wife. I will give you what she does not.”
“I have chosen to live in the white world, Laughing Brook, and am allowed only one wife by law.” He glanced toward the river, where Storm had fled, his blue eyes hazy with unquenchable heat. When he spoke again there was a gentle softness in his voice that Laughing Brook had never heard before. “Storm is the only wife I want.”
Her dark eyes flashing defiantly, Laughing Brook turned on her heel and marched back to the cabin. Though Thunder seemed to be obsessed with his wife, she sensed things weren’t as they should be between them. No new bridegroom would leave his bride for two months if he wasn’t desperate to escape an unpleasant marriage. She had no idea what had prompted Thunder to take a white bride, for he was a taciturn man not given to divulging the secrets of his private life, but Laughing Brook wasn’t discouraged. Thunder had brought her to his homestead, hadn’t he?
Having the love of Little Buffalo gave her a hold on Thunder that his pale wife couldn’t duplicate, Laughing Brook reasoned. And as long as she was in a position to control the child’s mind, she would make certain Little Buffalo and Storm never became close. Already the boy disliked his stepmother because of the seeds of discontent she had planted in his mind.
The evening meal was a solemn one. Little Buffalo fell asleep at the table and Grady carried him to the pallet of furs and blankets he had fixed on the floor. The boy was to share it with Laughing Brook until Grady could build a separate bedroom for him and Storm. He had voiced his intention earlier to go to Guthrie the next day and buy lumber. Storm wondered if Grady intended to share the bed with her that night with his son and Laughing Brook in the same room. Although they were married, she knew she’d be embarrassed. But knowing Grady she figured it would make little difference who slept in the room. She had heard somewhere that Indian families shared the same tepee.
After slanting Storm a furious look, Laughing Brook settled down on the pallet beside Little Buffalo. Grady blew out the light and Storm undressed, feeling more nervous than she had the first time Grady had crawled into bed beside her. At least that time they hadn’t had an audience. She didn’t know what she’d do if Grady wanted to make love. Before he returned from the reservation she had decided to be a wife to Grady in every way, but bringing Laughing Brook back with him had made a mockery of that decision.
The bed sagged beneath Grady’s weight, and Storm tensed when his naked thigh touched hers. When he turned to take her into his arms she went rigid.
“Are you still determined to keep us apart?” Grady whispered against her ear. “When I kissed you I could have sworn …”
“We’re not alone,” she hissed.
“What goes on in the marriage bed is private no matter who is present. When a Lakota warrior makes love to his woman no one else hears. It is the custom.”
“It may be all right for savages, but it’s not all right with me.”
Grady went still. So she still thought him a savage, his mind raged. He wanted to show her how much a savage he could be and ravish her until he’d had his fill. But he knew he’d never have his fill of Storm. He could have had his pick of women on the reservation, including Laughing Brook, but he wanted none of them. His one consuming thought was to return with his son to his homestead as quickly as possible and taste Storm’s sweetness once again.
“Is that your final word?”
“That’s how it must be as long as Laughing Brook and Little Buffalo are sleeping in the same room with us.”
Rising from the bed, Grady pulled on his pants and ordered Laughing Brook into bed with Storm. Then he slid down beside Little Buffalo and spent the rest of the night trying to quell his raging hunger for a woman who had no intention of ever being a wife to him. Did she still hold him responsible for her husband’s death?
Laughing Brook was delighted when Thunder left his wife’s bed. She realized she had been right in assuming all was not well with the newlyweds, and she slyly planned other ways to drive a wedge between husband and wife. If for some reason Thunder didn’t want to divorce his wife according to white law, they could return to the reservation. It was where Thunder and Little Buffalo belonged anyway. Despite his white blood, Thunder was the bravest, fiercest warrior she had ever known.
After her sister’s brutal accident Laughing Brook had assumed she’d take Summer Sky’s place in Thunder’s heart. She already had the love of Thunder’s son, so it was only natural that Thunder should love her too. The marriage must already be in desperate straits or Thunder would be sleeping beside his wife, demanding his rights, Laughing Brook reasoned. A sly smile curved her lips, thinking that half the battle for Thunder’s affection was already won.
Early the next day, Grady went to town and returned with lumber and seed. Since planting could wait a few more weeks, he began building the extra room immediately. Meanwhile Storm set about winning over Little Buffalo. It didn’t help any when Storm suggested that they begin calling the boy by his white name. Little Buffalo was adamantly opposed to the change, as was Laughing Brook, but Grady had the last word and henceforth Little Buffalo was to answer to the name Tim. Storm also gave the boy a haircut, and earned another slice of Tim’s contempt.
Tim’s animosity, Laughing Brook’s jealousy, Grady’s smoldering passion, and the crowded cabin made for a volatile combination. The looks Grady sent Storm were hot enough to fry eggs, while Laughing Brook literally threw herself at the handsome half-breed, blatantly offering Grady what Storm refused to give him. While the bedroom was being built, sleeping arrangements remained the same as on the first night. Each night Laughing Brook crawled into bed beside Storm while Grady shared the pallet with Tim. But one night the arrangement differed slightly.
Tim woke up from a nightmare and cried out for Laughing Brook. The Indian girl took the boy into bed with her and Storm in order to comfort him. At length he fell asleep between Storm and Laughing Brook, seemingly appeased. Storm drifted off to sleep a few minutes later. She was sleeping soundly when Laughing Brook quietly left the bed.
Grady was stung that his son preferred Laughing Brook to his own father. But what could he expect? he chided himself, when he had virtually abandoned the boy to Laughing Brook’s care while he rode with renegades, seeking revenge for Summer Sky’s death. Sighing regretfully, he closed his eyes, trying to forget how desperately he wanted to make love to Storm.
When he first felt the warm body snuggling against him, he merely thought Tim had crawled back into bed with him. The thought pleased him and he gathered the warm body in his arms. His hand closed over a soft breast, and before he could draw it away, a much smaller hand pressed it tightly against the swelling mound. Grady felt the nipple pucker and harden against his palm, and for a brief moment he was too mesmerized to move. Then his hand was drawn between her legs to the moistness of her woman’s flesh and the breath left his chest in a soft explosion of air.
“Storm … Oh, God, lady, I hope I’m not dreaming.”
“Do you think Storm is the only woman who can make you pant with desire?” Laughing Brook laughed into his ear. Boldly she molded her fingers around his throbbing erection. “You are magnificent, Thunder, just as I always knew you’d be. I ache for you. Let me ease your body. Let me give you comfort.”
Tim’s restless tossing and flailing limbs brought Storm instantly awake. He had inadvertently jabbed her in the ribs, and she awoke with a grunt of pain. She became aware that Laughing Brook had left the bed when she raised up to suggest that the Indian maiden carry Tim back to the pallet with his father. It was much too dark in the cabin to see where Laughing Brook had gone, but the agonized groan coming from the opposite side of the room told Storm exactly what Laughing Brook was up to. Obviously Laughing Brook and Grady were deep in the throes of passion.
Tears flooded her eyes and she felt a crushing weight squeezing the breath from her. She must have been naive to
think Grady had brought the beautiful squaw home with him for his son’s sake. He should have been truthful and told her Laughing Brook was here for his pleasure—the kind of pleasure Storm had refused him. He had warned her that he would take another woman if she refused to share his bed, and at the time it hadn’t seemed to matter. How could she willingly sleep with the man responsible for Buddy’s death? But that was before. Before …
Before he had made her need him.
Before she had grown to love him.
“Laughing Brook, what the hell are you doing in my bed?” Grady’s harsh whisper hissed through his clenched teeth.
“I want you, Thunder. Little Buffalo loves me. Why did you marry her? She is no good for you. I can make you happy. My parents expected us to marry after my sister’s death. Why did you disappoint them?”
“Get back to your bed immediately,” Grady said in a low growl. “Do you want Storm to hear us?”
“I don’t care.” She sounded like a spoiled child denied a sweet.
“Now, Laughing Brook. I will send you back to the reservation immediately if you ever attempt anything like this again.”
“You are a warrior. How can you live without a woman’s comfort?”
“Go, Laughing Brook.” Laughing Brook knew when she was defeated. The threat in Grady’s stern voice finally made an impression on her. Reluctantly she crawled from under the covers and back into Storm’s bed.
Storm knew the moment Laughing Brook returned to bed. She had no idea how long Laughing Brook had been with Grady on his pallet before she awoke and noted her absence, but it must have been long enough to—to—God, she couldn’t even say it.
In the space of a week Grady had built the addition to the cabin and moved the double bed he and Storm shared into it, placing two cots, one for Tim and one for Laughing Brook, in the main room of the cabin. He had worked at a frantic pace so he and Storm could be assured of the privacy they so desperately needed. Now all they needed to do when they wanted to be alone was close the door to their bedroom. During that week he had been puzzled, then angered by Storm’s coldness. It seemed as if they hadn’t a moment alone to discuss their differences. With either Tim or Laughing Brook making demands upon his time any privacy he and Storm might have found was forever being interrupted.