by Sara Orwig
“I do not want to kill you, Vanessa, and you act as if I am trying to. You don’t eat. I know you don’t sleep.”
She shrugged, watching him quietly.
“I feel I am riding to my death,” he said in a grating voice. “You know we can never succeed.”
She frowned and stared at him, and he knew his last chance for reason and survival were drowning in her wide, green eyes.
“Succeed at what?”
“What do you think?” he snapped, wondering if he had gone mad. He was not wildly in love with her, yet he couldn’t bear her suffering. He still loved Eyes That Smile, but he had to do this for Vanessa. “I will free you and I will accompany you to get your sister,” he said, grinding out the words, experiencing a stab of disbelief even as he said them. “And then, Vanessa, if by some miracle I survive, I am taking you north with me. You are mine. You’re my woman now,” he snapped.
Stunned, Vanessa stared at him, unable to believe what he had said. He looked fierce and angry, yet he had agreed to go after Phoebe! Her mouth fell open, and she blinked in dismay. She felt as if a crushing weight had lifted from her shoulders.
Vanessa closed her eyes and swayed as joy surged in her like a tidal wave. Opening her eyes, overwhelmed by gratitude, she flung herself at him. “Thank you! Oh, thank you! Thank you!”
It was the first time in days he had held her against him, and he was aroused instantly, his arm banding her waist as he pulled her up against him even more tightly. “You have torn my life apart, woman, from the first day!” he grumbled as she showered quick, light kisses over him. Her tears were salty on his lips.
“Dammit, Vanessa,” he said, “you know I won’t live to go home to my people.”
“Of course you will! It’ll be easy for you compared to what you went through before. Thank you!”
His emotions tore at him. Every bit of logic in him said he was riding to his death; yet he wanted her and he wanted her like this—joyous, giving, warm, and passionate, the woman he had taken to bed and traveled with for so long.
He kissed her hard, holding her against him, suddenly wanting her with a desperation for he felt as if his days were numbered.
She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her tongue sliding over his. Her hands were all over him, caressing him, setting him aflame.
His erection was swift and hard, and he caught Vanessa’s hand to draw her farther away from their camp. “White Bird will be orphaned because of this!”
“Of course, she won’t. I know you’ll get home again. You’ll see. We’ll just whisk Phoebe and Belva away, and Papa will never know. We’ll have a long head start, and he won’t have any idea where to search. Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Oh, thank you!” Tears of joy streamed unheeded down her cheeks, and he wiped them away with his thumb.
“Now you cry! You don’t shed tears until I tell you I’ll do what you want, and now you can’t stop crying!”
“I’m crying because I’m happy,” she said, a sob shaking her as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He tasted her salty tears, reaching for her, but she pushed against him and caught the ends of his shirt. She tugged his shirt up eagerly, pulling it over his head while he watched her with a feeling of amazement as she seemed to come alive and glow with joy.
“I’m so happy I feel as if I’ll burst!” she cried exuberantly, and he clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Shh! Vanessa, we’re in the wilds. Be quiet!”
She laughed, her hand drifting down the front of his buckskin pants over the bulge of his arousal. He drew in his breath and watched as she pushed away his pants, stepping closer to kiss him.
He caught her up, his arms banding her waist. “I suppose I’ll willingly ride to my death for this!” He kissed her hard and then pulled her down with him to the ground.
She laughed and wriggled against him, pushing at him. “This time you’re the one whose backside is on the rocky ground!” She scooted away, turning him, and sliding over him. He pulled up her dress, bunching it above her waist and then tugging it over her head to toss it away.
“Those damned drawers that you don’t need—”
She stood and shed them, looking down at him. Moonlight splashed on her alabaster skin, on her breasts that were high and full. She was thin, her ribs showing, her hipbones jutting out, and he reached up to pull her down over him, his shaft touching her softness, sliding into her. She gasped with pleasure as she moved on him, and he cupped her soft breasts, rubbing her taut nipples against his palm.
Vanessa moved wildly, filled with joy and love and exhilaration, knowing he was doing all this for her and feeling as if the bond between them had grown stronger. Sensations rocked her while her heart pounded with joy.
With a cry of ecstasy, she climaxed. Rapture came in waves that rippled through her. She felt his body shudder with his release, and finally she sprawled, exhausted, on him.
His skin was damp with sweat, his body heated against hers, feeling marvelous to her. She stroked his head and shoulders, wanting to give to him, so joyful that he would do this for her.
“Thank you! I’ll always be grateful.” She showered light kisses on him. “You don’t have to go near the fort. I’ll get Phoebe and Belva when they go to church with the Carters. Papa always stays at the fort and doesn’t attend church. He’s not religious.”
“Enough, Vanessa. I don’t want to contemplate what lies ahead. I have never known a lone warrior to take on an entire fort of soldiers.”
She laughed softly against his throat, and he wondered again if he had lost all his senses because of this slender woman.
“Vanessa,” he whispered. “You have ended my solitude and my quiet life. Lone Wolf no longer is a fitting name. Donkey with a She-Pack would be more like it because I think I must have the sense of a jackass to consent to this.”
She laughed. “That’s absurd! Your name should be Brave Warrior with Kind Heart.”
He studied her as she lay in his arms, turning her on her side and shifting to look at her. “We should get back. This ground is less than comfortable.”
“You thought it was fine when I was the one on my back,” she said, chuckling with amusement. “I’m so happy!” she exclaimed, stroking him, certain they could rescue Phoebe and Belva.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” he stated, raking her hair away from her face with his fingers. “You can break your news to Muaahap, and she’ll be overjoyed for you. But she’d better not kiss me.”
Vanessa laughed, and he raised up to prop his head on his hand and stare at her. “Vanessa, for your laughter I would ride into Fort McKavett unarmed and try to bring Phoebe and Belva out,” he said quietly, and her wide green eyes studied him. “And that is the remark of a man who has lost all reason.” He kissed her gently. “We go back before we are missed.”
She kept glancing at him as she dressed. Joy overwhelmed her, and she hummed and felt like jumping in the air with happiness. But along with it was curiosity over his last few statements. “…For your laughter I would ride into Fort McKavett unarmed and try to bring Phoebe and Belva out…” How much did he care about her? It had to be a great deal for him to think he was riding to his death to please her.
She caught his hand and kissed his knuckles, brushing them lightly with her lips, feeling his rough skin. “Thank you. You make me very happy.”
He placed his hand behind her head, holding her. “Remind me of that every day, Vanessa,” he stated solemnly and strode away from her.
They walked back, and she ran to Muaahap, who was snoring softly. “I should wait to tell her in the morning,” Vanessa said to him in a loud whisper. She went back to her quilt. Lone Wolf pulled her down into his arms, holding her tightly against him, and sleep came quickly.
The next morning when Vanessa woke, Lone Wolf was packing the horses and Muaahap was folding her bedding. White Bird still slept. Dawn had lightened the sky, and the soft coo of a mourning dove could be heard. Vanessa stared at the
sky, the last star still twinkling in the west, and she remembered the night before. Excitement filling her, she rose, slipping on her moccasins, and hurried to tell Muaahap her news.
Lone Wolf eyed them, wondering what Muaahap would think, knowing she would probably be happy if Vanessa were happy.
The old woman peered around Vanessa at Lone Wolf, and he looked away. He placed his folded hides on the horse and then he picked up a coil of rawhide. Sitting on the ground, he began to untangle a rawhide rope he intended to use for packing. As a shadow fell over him, he looked up.
Muaahap squatted in front of him, and for a startled moment he braced himself in case she were going to throw herself at him and kiss him for pleasing Vanessa.
“Aho,” she said, signing to indicate her pleasure. She had a sly look on her face, and he wondered what she was leading up to.
He nodded his head and made the sign of danger.
She nodded. “You, brave warrior,” she gestured.
“Brave warrior cannot battle fort of soldiers.”
“Brave warrior can,” she said, touching his chest with her finger. “Brave warrior. Make woman happy.” She reached into her buckskin sleeve to withdraw a packet wrapped in deerskin.
“For brave warrior,” she said and held it out to him.
Curious, he took the gift and nodded, knowing it wasn’t given lightly, half-expecting one of her silver bracelets. The moment his fingers closed on it, he looked at her in surprise. He unfolded the hide, revealing a fine, large bowie knife with a carved ivory handle. When he glanced at her, she smiled at him. “Make woman happy.”
He motioned his thanks; with a grin, Muaahap returned to her tasks. He turned the knife in his hands and wondered how she had acquired it. It was sharp and looked as if it had never seen use. He pulled out his old knife, which was worn and scarred and thin from being sharpened often. Pleased, he replaced it with the new one.
“She is very happy with you,” Vanessa said in a quiet voice that was filled with the warmth he had missed so badly.
“Where did she get this knife?” he asked.
Vanessa shrugged. “I don’t know. She only told me she had a gift for you.”
He touched Vanessa’s cheek. “You sleep at my side tonight. You are my woman now, Vanessa.”
She gazed up at him with a strange mixture of emotions. She was overcome with gratitude toward him, and a thrill went through her at his words. Yet she felt a longing for something more. He had been married before, had loved a woman enough to make her his wife. Vanessa had given herself to him because she thought they would part and never see each other again; but they weren’t going to part, and she did not want to be his woman indefinitely without a commitment from him. She drew a deep breath and faced him.
“We aren’t man and wife.”
“We are the same as man and wife.”
“No, we’re not. I thought I wouldn’t see you again, that we would part ways,” she said softly, looking away from him, unable to stop her blush. “Now our feelings for each other are more important. I must give it thought.”
Lone Wolf saw the spots of color in her cheeks and guessed she was leading up to marriage. But he still hurt over the loss of Eyes That Smile and he was not ready to take a wife. Vanessa had given herself freely to him, so he was taken aback now by her reply. He nodded, giving her time. She didn’t realize she was fully his captive and that he could possess her when he wanted. Yet this was not a woman to be taken by force; she was as strong-willed as a warrior. She walked away from him, and his pulse drummed as he remembered her wild abandon and joyous lovemaking last night.
During the days of riding with her before he had taken her virginity, he had thought that once he possessed her, the urges he felt toward her would lessen. Instead they were stronger, and his body clamored for her slender form beneath him even though he had possessed her only hours earlier. Her eagerness and vitality took his breath and made his pulse pound.
Her red hair swung with each step, swirling across her shoulders, and he wanted to bury his face in its softness. The flaming color fitted her; she was passionate and fiery. She had a proud walk, although in many ways she was unselfish and undemanding. Only when it came to someone she loved was she fiercely demanding and protective.
Vanessa Sutherland. The Sutherland name left a bitter taste in his mouth. How he hated Abbot Sutherland! When he had been with the army, he had encountered the man once at Fort Garland. Sutherland had asked why a redskin was present; and when he had been told Lone Wolf was a scout, he had demanded Lone Wolf not be allowed in the same tent with the officers as they discussed the railroad. Lone Wolf had left, but he remembered Sutherland as a tall, blue-eyed, brown-haired, pompous man.
Vanessa was Sutherland’s daughter, the child of a man hated by all Indians. Yet she was treated badly by her father and from what she said, Abbot Sutherland withheld his love from his daughters. Lone Wolf glanced at Vanessa, and his anger left him. She could not be held responsible for her father’s actions.
He crossed the camp toward her, looking at the hair that fell over her shoulders, curling around her like flames. He drew in his breath because she was beautiful and desirable. He wanted her in his arms. And he knew she wanted more. She wanted to be loved and to be his wife, but he wasn’t ready to give that part of himself yet, to say goodbye to his memories of Eyes That Smile.
“We ride within the hour. White Bird should eat first.”
She nodded and he turned away although he wanted to pull her into his arms, knowing he’d better start thinking with a clear mind about Fort McKavett.
Fourteen
They headed south, riding hard across open land. Days later, the land changed to rolling grassland with mesquite, cedars, and cottonwoods. Because of the flyers offering a reward and bearing her picture, Lone Wolf thought Vanessa should avoid all towns; so, as they neared Fort McKavett, he and Muaahap rode into Menard to get supplies and learn what day it was. Lone Wolf took Vanessa’s gold and bought two rifles, ammunition, and a long list of supplies. Muaahap purchased a hat for Vanessa and yards of green muslin for a dress. Lone Wolf bought woolen trousers, a shirt and vest, a coat, a hat, and a pair of boots.
When they rejoined Vanessa, he dismounted and began to unpack all they had purchased.
“Now I need to teach you and Muaahap to fire a rifle. Also, I bought the clothing we’ll need but I do not like to shed my buckskins.”
“You won’t stand out as much if you wear the white man’s clothing or if you cut your hair.”
He nodded solemnly. “I only cut my hair this one time. You cut it, Vanessa. Although even with it cut in the white man’s style, anyone who glances at me will know I’m Indian.” She had to agree as her gaze ran over his features.
He had honored her wishes and had not kissed her since they had turned to ride south. The occasional brush of his fingers when he handed her something or of his shoulder against hers as he moved past sent tingles through her. With each passing hour, she grew more aware of him and the longing she felt for him increased.
“Today is Thursday. We can be close to McKavett and Glen Hollow tomorrow; then we will camp and wait for Sunday. I want to see this church and plan what we’ll have to do.”
“I think we should find a safe place for Muaahap and White Bird and leave them, then come back and get them.”
He nodded solemnly, and she wondered if he had already decided on a similar plan.
That evening when they camped, he sat on a stump while she combed his thick black hair. The strands were coarse, as black as raven feathers. Her fingers moved over his head, brushing his neck, his ear, while he sat still. She leaned against him, parting his hair in the center and combing it, picking up strands, feeling strange about cutting his hair as if she were violating some primitive law.
Lone Wolf sat still, inhaling the faint scent of rosewater as her fingers brushed his nape and head. She leaned against him and her body was warm. Her fingers offered the faintest contact, yet he
r light touches stirred his desire for her.
As she tried to part his hair, he spread his knees and she stepped between them. Since her concentration was on his hair, Lone Wolf suspected she was unaware that she was arousing him.
She stood between his thighs, her breasts in front of his eyes. The buckskin was belted, the soft leather clinging to her. His imagination stripped away the clothing, and he thought of her standing between his legs without the dress.
As his body responded swiftly, he tried to shift his thinking to something else, to forget how close Vanessa stood, how sweet she smelled. She stepped behind him and tilted his head back slightly, her soft breast brushing against him.
A lock of dark hair fell on the back of his hand. She was changing him just as she had changed his life. He was going on an impossible journey that might take him to his death, a ridiculous risk to attempt to take two young women from a fort of soldiers.
He had no intention of marrying the daughter of a man he hated and had sworn to kill. And if the father came after them and there were a confrontation, if he killed Abbot Sutherland, what would that do to Vanessa?
Locks of black hair fell on the ground and on his knees. Vanessa worked slowly, not wanting to cut it too short. She brushed his nape, looking at his smooth, brown skin. She trimmed over his ears carefully. If he tired, he gave no indication, but sat as still as a statue.
She stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his cheeks to tilt his face up so she could see if she had cut his hair evenly. She parted it on the right side and then on the left, finally deciding on the right.
She paused in front of him again, her gaze going over his features. She drew in her breath. The look of wildness about him was diminished but not banished. In its place, though, was a strikingly handsome man with distinctive features—the dark brown eyes that now seemed larger than before, the arrogant hawk-like nose, the sensuous, masculine mouth, and the firm jawline that was now even more noticeable.