Song Of The Warrior

by Georgina Gentry

  “Your woman,” she said as the wrap fell down, baring one breast.

  With a groan, he lifted her so he could reach that breast, holding her in his arms like a small, precious possession. His mouth hesitated and she arched her back, offering that forbidden delight; that which no man had ever tasted and then she reached up, caught his craggy head between her two hands, pulled him down to the breast she offered. His lips touched her nipple in the most gentle of kisses as if he expected her to pull away. Instead, she pushed her breast into his mouth, wanting to feel his hot tongue touch the nipple’s tip and then he sucked it; sucked it hard.

  Now it was her turn to writhe in his arms, holding his mouth to her. She felt on fire all over as if she burned with some terrible, fatal fever. “I-I want you,” she whispered. “Take me, please . . . !”

  He was shaking in her embrace as he looked down into her eyes. “A place, we need—”

  “My bedroom. Koümize!” She gestured with her head and without another word, he swung her up, carried her in swift strides through the house, lay her gently on her bed, and stood looking down at her.

  “Oh, Willow, it’s not too late to stop . . .”

  Was it too late to stop? His eyes burned into hers and she knew he awaited some sign from her. She did not think; only felt as she slowly opened her dressing gown so that she lay naked and exposed to his view. She heard his sharp intake of breath and his eyes turned dark with pent-up passion. Without a word, Willow held out her arms to him.

  He knelt by the bed, kissing her bare belly, thighs, and breasts. She pulled him onto the bed, reached to touch his maleness. “Teach me,” she whispered. “You’re wrong; it is too late to stop, don’t even try!”

  With her urging, he lost control. He kissed and caressed her wildly, yet tenderly, his big hands surprisingly gentle as he touched her. He hesitated, then reached to take his buckskins off, warning her, “You won’t like what you’ll see—”

  “I think I will.” What was she saying? She had never seen a naked man in her sheltered life.

  He hesitated again, then seemingly driven by his need, he pulled his clothes off.

  Willow almost gasped at the sight. His body was hard and brown, ropy muscles stood out in ridges. His hips were so small, she could cover them with her two hands. But he was terribly scarred, his back, chest, and neck had ridges of white tissue, long scars as if something horrible had torn at him, almost ripped him apart.

  “You’re shocked,” he whispered. “It’s ugly, I know, I see it in your eyes.”

  She could feel him mentally pulling away from her. “So this is how you got your name.”

  “Now that you’ve seen how ugly I look . . .” He was still gasping with passion but reaching for his clothes. “The grizzly almost ate me alive before I killed it; I know the sight of my scarred body—”

  “It doesn’t matter! I love you,” she whispered, “it doesn’t matter.” Willow pulled him to her, began to kiss his scars, the ridged muscles of the claw marks where the great grizzly had shredded his flesh. She could only imagine what courage it had taken to face the huge beast, the agony he must have endured as it attacked him. “I love you anyway,” she murmured.

  “Oh, Willow.” He took her in his arms, pressed his hard, dark chest against her pale soft breasts and kissed her as if he would never get enough of her.

  She reached to touch him and he was hard and throbbing with his passion. She felt dewy wet between her thighs with her wanting and she spread her thighs. “Make a woman of me,” she begged.

  “It-it is a kapsis itu, a bad thing to deflower a virgin without the proper ceremony.”

  “No,” she insisted, “the way I feel about you is taz; good!” and she drew him to her.

  “Your eyes are like green fire,” he whispered. His were like intense dark coals in that moment that he came up on his knees.

  She reached to put her two hands over his lean, hard hips and pull him down into her. She wanted it done swiftly, like a sword stroke, but his strength was greater than hers and he resisted her urging, coming into her slowly and gently, though he was trembling with his own need.

  Oh dear God, he was big!

  He held back, fighting her over this. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “I will never hurt you. . . .”

  She felt him break through the thin silk of her virginity and arched up to meet him, drawing him down into her. For a split second he lay on her and she felt as if he had impaled her with his own hot flesh. The moment of pain was replaced with her own urgent need and she began to move under him until he responded. He began to ride her rhythmically, hot and deep and sure.

  She embraced his scarred, dear body, kissing his lips as if she could never get enough of the taste of him. This was the man she wanted; the man who had first possessed her so hesitantly, so tenderly, so passionately.

  “Please,” she asked and offered her breasts to his greedy mouth again, wanting him to suck them into two molten peaks of desire. He obliged, his touch carrying her higher and higher until she wrapped her long slim legs around his lean hips and pulled him into her, begging that he ride her deeper and even harder to satisfy this yearning that she had never felt before.

  After a long, heart-stopping moment, she felt him gasp and stiffen in her arms. It almost seemed that she could feel him putting his hot seed into her womb and the image of his taking total possession of her body drove her over the edge of ecstasy and into a timeless exhilaration that she could never have guessed existed. For what seemed like forever, they clung together while her greedy body demanded that he give her everything he had.

  Finally, they collapsed on each other, shaking and gasping for air, him feverishly stroking her hair and kissing her face. “Willow, Willow . . .”

  What had she done? The realization of her own daring boldness shocked her, yet she had never felt so sleepily satisfied as she looked up at him and smiled. “I love you.”

  He seemed to come to his senses, pulled back, shame in his eyes. “I have behaved without honor.” He drew away from her, horror in his noble face. “I have seduced a virgin who was too young to know better. I come to ask for my brother and I steal her innocence.”

  He got up and began to dress, ignoring the stain of her on his body. “Oh, by our god, Hunyewat, how could I do such a terrible thing?”

  “Was it terrible?” She sat up, pulling her robe around her naked breasts.

  He paused, his shirt half on, his rugged face softening. “I have never experienced anything like that and never will again. I’m sorry, Willow, I took advantage—”

  “I’m not completely without blame in this,” she admitted, blushing at her own boldness, but unable to turn away and not watch him pull buckskins over that magnificent, heavily muscled body, “and I-I’m not sorry it happened.”

  “How do I look my brother in the face?”

  “Look him in the face and say ‘she said no, she wanted Bear instead.’ ”

  “You’re confused!” He almost shouted at her. “You feel now that I’ve seduced you, you must say you love me.”

  “Stop telling me what to do!” She sobbed, sad that he regretted everything. “You aren’t my big brother, stop protecting me and treating me like a helpless thing just because you’re so responsible!”

  He shook his head sadly. “Once you have thought this over, you are going to regret it, Willow. Perhaps tomorrow, I can figure out what to do about this terrible thing I have done; tonight, I must think.”

  He turned and strode out.

  “Bear, come back here! I love you, do you hear? I love you!”

  But he was gone. She heard the Appaloosa gallop away from the front of the house. Now what?

  She sat there in the rumpled bed, the light dressing gown pulled around her naked body, her tousled black hair falling around her shoulders, and put her face on her knees, sobbing in deep despair. She had been so sheltered and innocent, but this man had set her emotions afire so that she had thrown caution and morality to
the winds, and for what? He didn’t want her.

  “Kuse timine,” she whispered in the Nez Perce language, go with a good heart. No matter what happened next, she would always love him; that was why she had given him the gift of her virginity.

  Maybe after he thought it over awhile, he would know they really did belong together and he would come back and claim her. What if he didn’t? No, Willow shook her head, there’d been no mistaking the way he had looked at her, the way he had made love to her. He cared about her and now she knew what passion was. At dawn, she would go out to the camp herself and tell Raven that she desired Bear. Surely he would see that it was only fair and just that two people who loved each other as much as she and Bear did belong together forever.

  The reverend wouldn’t like the idea, of course, but maybe she could even convince him to perform the ceremony once he knew she had no interest in Billy Warton or any other man but Bear. Of course, with his rigid ideals, he had better not ever know that she and Bear had already consummated their love. He wasn’t due home for a while yet, by then she—

  There was a sound at the door. Her spirits soared and she ceased crying. Surely her love had changed his mind and returned for her. Willow half rose from the bed, holding the dressing gown around her naked body, wiping tears from her swollen eyes. “Bear? You came back!”

  Reverend Harlow came through the door and stood there, staring at her, his eyes wide and shocked.

  She didn’t know what to say. “I-I wasn’t expecting you to return so soon—”

  “You harlot! You Jezebel! A blind man could see what must have happened here! You must be punished, lust must be beaten from your whore’s body!”

  Willow sat frozen in terror as he pulled off his heavy leather belt and advanced on her.

  Ten

  Reverend Harlow stared at his ward. Half naked, her lips swollen from kisses, she looked every bit as desirable as her slut of a mother had once looked. Passion and evil; they were all around godly men, tempting them. He hated himself because he could not live up to his own lofty ideals of what a man of the cloth should be. He had hated Willow’s mother for the beauty he could not have, now even in his advanced years, he felt his passion surge as he looked at the daughter. A pain flashed through his chest and down his left arm, adding to his turmoil. “You’re just like your slut of a mother!”

  Willow stared back at her guardian, shaking her head. “No, it’s not like that; he loves me; I love him!”

  “Love! It’s lust; dirty lust, that’s what it is!” He advanced on her swinging his leather belt with the big buckle at the end. “You’re no better than she was, despite the white raising you’ve had!”

  She stood up, clutching the robe to her. “I know you’re upset, and maybe I’ve done wrong, but—”

  “Wrong, you harlot! Why, you Injuns have no morals, no morals at all. I thought maybe your white blood would come through, but you’re just like your slut of a mother. That’s why we took you away from her.”

  The old man’s eyes were aglow as he moved toward her, brandishing the heavy belt.

  Willow backed against the wall. “What do you mean, I thought she abandoned me? Let’s talk of this—”

  “Talk? No, we’ve spared the rod and spoiled the child, but I’m about to remedy that now. She wanted to keep you, and now I wish we had let her!” Maybe if she could keep him talking until his anger cooled a little, he might listen to reason. That was her only chance, since Reverend Harlow was between her and the door.

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  He nodded and swung the belt. “Oh, she begged and begged, but we knew what was best. After she died, that Russian tried to claim you, but we sent you away to stop him. And this is how you show your gratitude!”

  He swung the strap, caught her across the shoulder with the buckle. Willow cried out at the stinging pain, attempted to run past him. He grabbed at her, ripping her dressing gown away as she ran. Was there any room with a lock on the door? She fled blindly, hearing his footsteps behind her. Oh, God, help me!

  The study; maybe she could drag his desk in front of the door. She only got partway there when he caught up with her, grabbed her by the hair, slashing at her naked body with the strap. She screamed with pain as the buckle cut into her soft flesh again and again. She fell, making herself as small as possible while he reined blow after blow on her slim body. “Oh, please, stop!” She looked up at him, sobbing, trying to protect her face.

  “You spawn of Satan! You Jezebel!” His lips were wet and his eyes aglow as he struck her naked body again and again with the strap. Why, he was enjoying this! She saw him suddenly as she had never seen him before; a twisted and tortured old man. He was beating her harder and faster, almost in a frenzy, breathing hard as he did so. She was crying and begging, but it only encouraged him. She must do something or he would beat her to death!

  “Spare the rod!” he gasped. “Not anymore, harlot! You won’t tempt any more righteous men with your beauty!”

  Wildly, she grabbed for the strap, tangled her hand in it, yanked him off balance. He faltered and she took the opportunity to dash past him, into the parlor. Behind her, she heard him cry out in rage, stumble against a table, send a lamp crashing. Willow didn’t wait. The minute he picked himself up off the floor, he’d be after her again, she must get out. She ran to her room, grabbed up a plain dress thrown across the chair. Where were her shoes?

  From the other part of the house, she heard him crash against something, the tinkle of knickknacks as a table went over. “Willow, I-I’m hurt! My chest—! Help me!”

  She wasn’t going to fall for that trick. It was as if he’d gone insane. Willow didn’t answer, she was too terrified and hurting. The marks where the buckle had struck were turning black and purple, some were bleeding. There was no time to look for shoes or he’d trap her in her room again. This time if he cornered her, she had no doubt he’d kill her.

  She fled out the back door into the darkness naked. The small house was isolated and she could only thank God for that. Willow paused just a moment in the shadows of a tree, jerked the dress on, didn’t bother to button it all the way. The spring air was crisp and she wished she had a sweater, but she would not go back into that house for anything; she would never return to that house.

  The rocks cut into her bare feet as she ran, trying to put some distance between her and the parson. She got a half mile away before she paused, leaning against a tree, breathing hard. Already her little feet were cut and bruised, but those injuries were nothing compared to the wounds and marks where the heavy strap or the buckle had cut into her soft flesh. What to do now?

  Willow turned and looked toward the dim lights of the house. Even now, he might be searching for her in the darkness. She thought she might be able to outrun him out here with a head start, except that she had no shoes. She could hide under cover of night, but what would she do when dawn came? It came to Willow suddenly that she had no one to turn to. Certainly the officers at the fort or the white town residents would never believe that the saintly Reverend Harlow could do something like this. Even if they did, many probably would think she deserved harsh punishment for what she had done.

  What had she done? Given way to passion with a man she loved; it wouldn’t be the first or the last time a human heart had let love take precedent over reason. Did Bear care about her? He had left in deep despair because he felt he had betrayed his brother. He might never want to see her again. Willow hesitated, looking back toward the house, then down the road toward the Indian camp. It was a long way to walk, especially for an injured girl who wore no shoes. She seemed to have no choice. Deep in her heart, she wasn’t white, she was Nez Perce, and she had no place to go, no other refuge.

  She began to run, pausing now and then to lean against a tree and gasp for air. Her feet were already torn and bleeding and her beaten body felt on fire. However, she forced herself to keep moving, terrified that her furious guardian might guess where she would go, get the buggy and
come after her. She was underage, the law would probably hand her over to him, no matter her bruises.

  Bear had ridden back to camp at a slow trot, wanting to delay the confrontation as much as possible. It would be difficult enough just to face his eager brother and tell him that the woman Raven loved had said no. That would have been hard enough. What would Bear say if Raven ever guessed that his own brother, the one he had always trusted to look out for him, had lost control and made passionate love to that woman. He sighed, hardly hearing the night birds calling around him. There was no song in Bear’s heart until he saw Willow’s sweet small face in his mind and remembered those precious moments in her arms. It was worth a man’s life to experience such breathless ecstasy, but instead of his life, it looked like he would pay with his honor.

  Tamtaiza uatiskipg; tomorrow will tell, Bear thought. Tomorrow, in the grim light of day and reality, he had no doubt Willow would have bitter regrets and curse his name. He was the man, he should have exerted self-control, not taken advantage of her emotion. She couldn’t, shouldn’t care anything for him. The most honored thing he could do was never mention it to her if he ever saw her again and if at all possible, he wouldn’t even do that. Perhaps later she would marry the lieutenant or even Raven, and Bear would protect her honor with his silence. Those breathless minutes in her arms would stay locked in his heart forever.

  No matter how slowly he rode, at last he came into camp. It was getting late and though a few people were still about, most of the tipis were settling down for the night. He heard Cub crying and his mother comforting him. At least Rainbow wasn’t drunk and out in some soldier’s blankets tonight. Her child needed her.

  He dismounted, unsaddled his horse.

  Raven came out of their lodge, hurried toward him. “Bear? I was beginning to think your horse might have fallen; I was about to come looking for you.”