Coyote Ugly

by Pati Nagle

  “Well, rest you then. We will talk in the morning.” He released her and turned to her cousin. “Luruthin, will you join me for a cup of wine?”

  Luruthin glanced at Eliani, who silently pleaded that he not betray her. His gaze returned to the governor and he smiled.

  “Of course.”

  She watched them go into her father’s study, then slunk down the hall to her own chamber. She washed the dirt from her hands and rubbed away as much of the sap as she could, then took off the good tunic and legs she had worn for the evening’s festivities and slipped into comfortable fleececod ones.

  She lit the candles in the branch beside her bed and sat down to inspect her clothes for damage. Apart from one cuff where the embroidery was a bit frayed, they were unharmed. Her shoes had not fared so well; they were smudged with dirt and gummed with pine sap, probably ruined.

  Eliani frowned at the slipper in her hand, thinking over her flight into the woods. Luruthin had seen her, which meant he had been near the public circle. Had he followed her and the bard down from the Hall?

  Anger and embarrassment conflicted in her. She wished Luruthin would take less interest in her concerns, but had he done so tonight she would have been alone when she encountered the catamount. Not even in her most ungrateful mood could she regret that he had aided her then. He often annoyed her, but he had also been her true friend since they were both very young.

  Highstone was not a large city, certainly nowhere near as large as Glenhallow. Children were rare enough among the ælven that Eliani had grown up with little company. Luruthin, living a day’s ride away in Clerestone, was the nearest to her own age of anyone in the area, and because of that both Felisan and Luruthin’s parents had encouraged him to make Felisanin Hall his second home.

  Now, though, Luruthin was past his majority, while Eliani still suffered the endearments and caresses of those who thought her a child. She was not; she had seen much, and her father had encouraged her to sit with him when he was hearing petitions and managing the governance of Alpinon. She knew more than any child.

  Sounds drew her notice: a door softly closing, a murmured goodnight, quiet footsteps. She waited until she heard both her father’s and Luruthin’s doors close, then slipped out into the hall.

  Luruthin and his parents always stayed in the same rooms when they were visiting: two adjacent chambers across the hall. Eliani padded in her bare feet to Luruthin’s door, then quietly opened it.

  Luruthin turned toward her in surprise, his arms still in the sleeves of the tunic he was removing. He frowned, pulled it off and tossed it onto the chest at the foot of his bed.

  “What?”

  Eliani came closer, matching her whisper to his. “What did you tell him?”

  He grimaced, then picked up a plain fleececod tunic from the bed and unfolded it. “That I saw you run across the circle and thought you were upset, so I followed.”

  “Did you tell him where I came from?”

  Luruthin pulled the tunic on. “He knows you were at the guest house.”

  Eliani bit her lip. Yes, of course he knew. He had heard her offer to help the bard with his instruments. She felt heat returning to her cheeks, and turned away so that Luruthin would not see.

  “Eliani ...” Luruthin’s hand touched her shoulder. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut against the memory of humiliation.

  “If he laid a hand on you unwelcome ...”

  “No.” Impatient, she faced Luruthin. “That is the trouble. I wanted him to touch me. He would not. He th-thinks I am too young!”

  A small smile curved Luruthin’s lips. “Well, you are two decades shy of your majority.”

  “You did not wait until your majority!”

  He blinked. “We are not talking of me.”

  She stared at him, breathing sharply, remembering how she had laughed at him when he had first become interested in females. In the space of a year he had gone from wonderment and awkwardness to a confidence that she did not completely understand, and he had ceased to talk with her about it. She still resented that.

  He put both hands on her shoulders. “Eliani, do you really want your first love to be a stranger with a pretty voice, who will leave again in a few days?”

  She looked away, sullen anger filling her. He was right, and that annoyed her.

  “Or would you rather it be someone who truly cares for you?”

  She glanced back at him. “But there is no one like that who is willing to teach me!”

  Luruthin’s eyelids drooped, hiding his eyes, though she suspected she saw a gleam of amusement in them. His voice was quiet and serious.

  “You will find the right partner, and when you do, you will both know it.”

  She swallowed and her hand curled into a fist. She struck it lightly against his chest. “I am not a child!”

  “This bard ... awoke your curiosity. I see that. There will be others who do the same. Trust me, Eliani, you will have no trouble finding admirers. There is no need to rush.”

  “What need is there to wait?”

  All humor faded from his gaze. His eyes, green as moss, lit with a strange intensity.

  “Perhaps none.”

  His khi, so familiar she rarely noticed it, suddenly filled her awareness. A tingle of surprise went through her. Luruthin moved his head toward hers, slowly—giving her opportunity to pull away—but she held still as he kissed her.

  His lips were soft and warm, a faint taste of mead lingering on them. The kiss ended too soon; she had been kissed more soundly by her eldermother.

  Luruthin drew back and gazed at her, as if asking whether she approved. She stared at him, breathing shallowly, unsure what to do. After a moment he kissed her again, more urgently.

  Fear and eagerness surged within her. Luruthin’s tongue flicked forward, teasing, exploring. She had heard of this and wondered why anyone would like it, but was not so strange as she had thought and her body reacted to it in ways she had never imagined.

  A fire kindled in her belly. Her arms slid around him, pulling him closer.

  Luruthin’s arms went around her, tight with the strength of his muscles. He kissed her deeply. She followed him as best she could, hoping she was doing right. His response seemed approving, but then suddenly he pulled away.

  Had she done something wrong? He had never stared at her like this.

  He was breathing as fast as she. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward the bed, then sat on it, drawing her down beside him. He kissed her neck beneath her ear, making her shiver. His whisper was hoarse.

  “If you want me to stop, tell me. All right?”

  Eliani nodded, then jumped as his lips pressed into the hollow of her throat. She hesitantly stroked his hair, then froze as his hand touched her breast—and stayed there.

  He raised his head and kissed her again, hungrily. His hand squeezed and caressed her breast, creating sensations that stunned her. She returned his kisses when she remembered, but often she held still, her attention fixed on his touch and the feelings it roused.

  His other hand slid inside her tunic, up her back, warm and firm and friendly; no, much more than friendly. This was her cousin, she recalled with amazement—her childhood playmate—but they were neither of them children any more.

  Luruthin paused in kissing her to pull her tunic over her head, then dragged his own tunic off and pulled her to him. Warm flesh against hers; she gave a small gasp of delight. Luruthin froze and raised his head to look at her, putting a finger to his lips in warning.

  She understood. His parents were in the next room; she must be silent.

  He drew her up onto the bed, gently laying her back, and thrilled her by kissing her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She bit her lip and clutched the blanket to keep from crying out. His hands traveled over her, warm and firm, caressing everywhere. He slowed, moving downward, his kisses becoming tentative.

  Her loins lit with
fire, and though he had not yet touched her there, she knew he would. She wanted him to. She wanted him to touch her everywhere at once.

  He kissed her belly softly, slowly. His hands moved over her hips and she felt the tension of the waist tie on her legs release. His fingers hooked into the waistband and pulled the garment downward.

  Shivers ran through her as his palms traveled down her hips. He sat up, one hand resting lightly on her belly. She looked at him and saw that he was hastily removing his own legs. He kicked a boot off and it thudded across the floor. Eliani smiled, holding back laughter.

  In a moment he was back, his full attention raising heat in her flesh once more. He moved up to kiss her intently, then down again. His hands stroked her hips, her thighs, her loins.

  Gently, so gently, he touched her more intimately. She held still, all her attention on what she was feeling. His fingers brushed the soft hair of her loins, then explored into it and stroked her tingling, tender flesh.

  She caught her breath as he found the most sensitive place and caressed it. Shivers ran through her; he must know what he was making her feel. She reached for him, touching whatever she could find of him, wanting him to know that she did not wish him to stop.

  When his hand withdrew she knew an agony of disappointment, only to be relieved the next moment. He pushed her thighs apart and bent his head to kiss her there, raising waves of delight more intense than she had ever imagined. She abandoned herself to sensation, thrilling at what he was doing to her, wanting him to do more.

  His tongue slid deep into her, surprising her, then returned to the delicious torment a little higher. His teeth closed lightly on her and she gasped.

  He slid a finger into her, sending a flash of excitement from her hips to the top of her head. She wanted him truly inside her, not his finger but him, his maleness. Wanted the culmination of coupling but could not bring herself to speak, nor did she want him to stop what he was doing.

  Her breath was ragged; she hoped it was not too loud, but she no longer had much control of it. Luruthin teased her into a fever pitch of excitement until she thought she could bear no more, then something tipped and spasms of pleasure went through her, blinding her, sending her soaring.

  Gradually the sensation subsided, leaving her flushed with delight. She sighed as Luruthin’s caresses became languorous. In his khi, though, the tension had not ended.

  Slowly he withdrew, only to loom over her, arms to either side of her, his hair dangling against her chest. He kissed her, tasting salty and strange. She ran her fingers up into his hair, but he pulled back, watching her.

  Her gaze traveled to his loins, where his maleness stood stiff and proud. Would he stop even now, if she demanded it? A part of her—the child that had always loved to tease him—was curious, but she would not try him so. She did not want him to stop. She wanted to feel all of him.

  As if he had heard her thoughts, he lowered himself atop her, skin hot against hers. He kissed her as the strange hardness of his sex pressed against her loins. She jumped at the contact, still sensitive. He pressed himself against the wetness between her thighs and began to move back and forth.

  Her body reawoke, the fire building swiftly again. She let out a soft moan and he silenced her with a kiss more intense than any yet.

  His hands roved down her sides and slid under her. She waited, eager to feel him inside her.

  Would they conceive a child? Unlikely, but possible, though she had not heard of anyone so young conceiving. If it happened she would welcome it.

  He stopped moving and raised his head, catching her gaze. His eyes burned with a fire she had never seen and it thrilled her.

  Holding her gaze, he pulled his hips back and she felt him press against her lower down. Heat flashed through her loins and she gave a small gasp of delight.

  Their gazes locked, with infinite slowness he moved into her, deeper and deeper, stretching her, filling her with himself. She felt a pressure deep inside and knew that he had found her inner self, the part that must open to him if they were to conceive. Would he push into there as well?

  He stopped, withdrew a little and pushed forward again against the barrier. A wave of indefinable sensation washed through her deep inside.

  Luruthin closed his eyes. She watched his face as he began to move slowly, rhythmically. It felt lovely; he filled her and pressed deep inside her and sent flashes of delight through her.

  A frown of concentration built on his brow as he moved faster, more urgently. She pushed back against each thrust, then closed her eyes, feeling the approach of another lightning spasm. Just as it reached her he gave a small grunt and thrust wildly, rapid and deep, almost but not quite causing pain.

  Frantic spasms slowed to more tender caresses. Eliani breathed deeply, waves of bliss rolling through her. She stroked Luruthin’s hair, his back, his hips. His arms tightened around her, then relaxed. They fell still.

  She listened to his breathing, felt his heart pounding against hers, gradually slowing. His khi was blended with hers and that felt surprisingly good, not an intrusion at all.

  They had not conceived. That was, after all, very rare. She knew a twinge of disappointment, and realized that if she were to conceive a child, she would much rather it be with Luruthin than with the bard.

  How foolish she had been, dreaming about love from a stranger. She would not have been nearly as comfortable. Luruthin she knew; she trusted him, and he had proved himself more than capable of teaching her what she wanted to know. She reached a hand up and ran it down the center of his back.

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  He lifted his head, eyes filled with tenderness now. He kissed her sweetly.

  “Thank you, my love.”

  “Are we lovers?”

  “Ah—yes, I believe this meets the definition.”

  “No, I mean ...”

  Sudden embarrassment silenced her. Her dreams beyond initiation into the pleasures of sex had been vague, but they had included a continuation of the relationship. She had not thought of its impact on others, though.

  Would her father be upset to learn what they had done? She could not bear to think of him angry with Luruthin, nor did she like the thought of pretending nothing had happened. That seemed deceitful.

  She looked up at Luruthin and swallowed. She did not want to lose his camaraderie, but she wanted more of this closeness. She felt confused, and it made her insecure.

  “Will we do this again?”

  He smiled. “Oh, I dearly hope so. I have not taught you everything, you know.”

  “No?”

  The smile widened to a grin. He shook his head, and kissed her soundly.

  Eliani let go of her worries and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Recipe: Green Chile Roll-ups

  New Mexicans know this party standard very well. It’s easy and popular, and anyone can enjoy it. Just select the level of spiciness when you buy your green chile. (Can’t find green chile in your local supermarket? Order from newmexicanconnection.com.)

  Ingredients:

  4 T chopped roasted green chile (or 1 4-oz. can chopped green chile, drained)

  1 8 oz. package cream cheese

  1/4 t garlic powder

  dash of salt

  flour tortillas

  Preparation:

  Let cream cheese warm up to room temperature. In a mixing bowl, blend cream cheese, green chile, garlic powder, and salt. Spread onto tortillas, leaving 1/2 inch around outer edge. Roll into an oblong, wrap in plastic wrap, chill at least 1 hour.

  Unwrap chilled rolls, slice into 1/4 inch rounds, arrange on platter and serve.

  Dawn’s Early Light

  “‘She comes after the darkness—after the battle is over—and moves among the wounded, weeping men, a silent shadow bringing comfort and peace.’”

  A lurch of the wagon caused Mr. Parker’s pencil to scrape a vivid line across the page. He cursed the driver, then read what he had just written. Scowling, he tore
the page from his pocket notebook and crumpled it.

  They had reached division headquarters, an abandoned house crouched atop a small rise at the edge of the woods, with a couple of peach trees just blooming. Near the house were a few army tents and a jumble of wagons, forlorn in the absence of their owners. A couple of staff officers sat by a gently smoking fire, gazing across open fields to where Griffin’s division had moved forward to defend their hold on the Orange Turnpike.

  A sketchy line of barricades, hastily constructed after the previous day’s fighting, marked where the division had spent the night after losing the battle. Reinforcements had become entangled in the undergrowth of the Wilderness and arrived far too late to be of any use. Mr. Parker had heard the details from an ordnance officer’s aide at the Union army’s headquarters.

  He smiled, remembering with satisfaction the aide’s chance comment which had alerted him to the presence, at Griffin’s division’s hospital, of the elusive Miss Tamer. He’d been only too glad to leave the swarm of reporters orbiting General Grant on the occasion of his first clash with Lee. Mr. Parker disliked being one of a crowd, and however his story on Grant might have outshone the others, it could still be obscured by their numbers.

  He preferred to pursue a more unique story, even though it had cost him a night’s sleep in a bumpy wagon.

  The sun had climbed nearly to midday. Away to the south a hot fight had been raging since dawn.

  Spring burgeoned in the Wilderness, green leaves peeking out along the tangled branches of young trees beyond the barricades. The ghosts of Chancellorsville still haunted those woods—believed by many to be cursed—and there was fresh blood beneath the spring branches.

  The wagon stopped, its way blocked by some others which were being searched by a weary-looking guard. The driver began a heated discussion with one of the soldiers.

  Mr. Parker put away his notebook and picked up his traveling case, and hopped over the wagon’s side, his boots raising dust from ground whose springtime was marked only by a few trampled shreds of young grass. Abandoning the driver to his argument, he started toward the largest tent he could see, tucked away in the shelter of the hill.