Moore, Gigi - Lily's Secrets [Elk Creek 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Gigi Moore

  Wyatt usually avoided eating in the house, preferring to take his meals out on the porch or even in the field during a break from work. Since Dakota had recovered enough to leave the bed and the bedroom, he and Lily usually took their meals together. Dakota had always missed Wyatt’s company as if a part of him had been amputated. Now that Wyatt was at the table with them, Dakota remained at a loss, missing yet another person—Little Wyatt.

  It was so strange that one so small could leave such a gaping hole in the fabric of a family unit, but this was the case.

  Despite Wyatt and Lily’s invitation, Dakota felt like an interloper. He did not belong here enjoying the warmth of their company, the goodness of their food. Their little son belonged here. The only reason the boy was not here was because Dakota had made the decision to keep Little Wyatt’s existence a secret for the child’s own good. Dakota had not thought the couple he had known, the broken husband and wife who had rescued him more than a week ago, had enough love and stability in their home, in their hearts, to sustain Little Wyatt’s soul. Now he knew he was wrong. There was more than enough love, if not stability, in this house. With love, however, they could work on the stability, Dakota realized.

  Except now, he did not know how to tell Little Wyatt’s parents about their child’s existence, that he lived and breathed on a reservation not too far away from Elk Creek, at least as far as distance was concerned. Culturally, the Kiowa-Comanche-Apache reservation might as well be a world away from the white man’s town.

  He had known this would be difficult when he had undertaken his task and made his decision to keep the secret. Despite being in love with Lily since he had rescued her all those years ago, he just had not expected to care for Little Wyatt’s parents so much.

  Dakota did not relish his position. He did not look forward to the time when he would have to tell Wyatt and Lily about their child. He did not want to see the wounded, betrayed looks in either of their eyes.

  When Lily reached for his hand on the table, Dakota took it, holding her look with a grave expression of his own. He couldn’t hold her gaze for long, not when Lily gave him a quivering grin that pierced his heart and made him question how he thought he could ever get away with keeping this woman’s child from her without repercussions.

  Wyatt reached for Dakota’s other hand across the table to complete the circle. The gesture humbled Dakota and made him feel equal parts traitor and honored guest.

  Dakota watched as both Wyatt and Lily bowed their heads and he followed their lead. He was immediately transported back to the table at his mother and father’s home before they had been taken away from him when he was not much more than twelve.

  He had lived in a home much like this, if a little more modest in stature, but not lacking in warmth and love.

  Dakota wondered now what his mother or father would have done had someone kept him away from them when he had been but a helpless little boy. How much would they have grieved his loss? How hard would they have searched for him?

  He knew the answers to both those questions. They would never have stopped grieving and they would never have stopped searching had they had any suspicion that he was alive.

  Dakota had seen what his father had been driven to when his wife had been taken from him by white men who did not like the idea of an Indian woman, a savage, being married to a respectable white man.

  His father had not been able to get justice from his own people, the white man, so had sought what he had thought the only other alternative open to him.

  Dakota came back to the present with a jolt, listening to Wyatt’s voice as he recited a prayer of thanks for the food and the company of loved ones.

  He watched as Wyatt glanced at Lily beneath his lashes, then felt the warmth of the other man’s feelings as Wyatt glanced at him and grinned.

  Dakota squirmed in his chair, parroting Wyatt and Lily’s “Amen” before making the mistake of looking at Lily again.

  Guilt washed over him. He knew, like any mother, had Lily known her child was alive she would have moved heaven and earth to be with him. She had no reason to believe he’d survived the raid, however. She had, in fact, had every reason to believe he had died with the rest of the tribe, and Dakota, up until months after the raid, had had every reason to believe Lily dead.

  Once he finally tracked her down, Dakota had done nothing over the last several months to dispel Lily’s belief. He had even gone so far as to hide Lily’s existence from his grandfather.

  At the time, he had convinced himself he was doing the right thing for Little Wyatt. The child had been four when the tribe had been attacked, firmly entrenched with his Indian family and educated in the ways of the Kiowa. Dakota had convinced himself that to uproot him from the familiar, especially after so traumatic an event as the raid that had killed most of his tribe, would have been cruel.

  Now, however, seeing the evidence of Lily’s love, experiencing her grief, Dakota thought differently and had since she and her husband rescued him. Lily was not the type of woman to abandon someone she deeply cared for. Lily was not the type of woman who would easily forget about the son she had lost. Not to mention, by relegating Little Wyatt to life on a reservation, Dakota was depriving him of his birthright and his legal place in the white man’s world.

  His parents’ world.

  He knew it was just a matter of time before he told Lily and Wyatt about their son.

  He did not want to open that dialogue without first thinking long and hard about what he would be doing to all concerned, however, especially Little Wyatt. Besides Lily, the child’s well-being was Dakota’s biggest concern and always had been.

  He did not, however, believe that the child’s parents would see things that way.

  “Aren’t you hungry, Dakota?”

  He shook himself as if waking from a nightmare to find two sets of eyes staring at him with concern. Dakota returned Lily’s and Wyatt’s looks and forced a grin. “I am.” He took the bowl of aromatic mashed turnips that Lily offered him and heaped a portion on his plate. Next came the rice, beef stew, and collard greens, quickly followed by a plate of hot buttered biscuits.

  All the spicy and creamy scents reenergized Dakota’s hunger, and he dug into the warm meal with relish and a new sense of purpose.

  He would leave Lily and Wyatt’s as soon as was feasible, find a place in town to stay while he made up his mind when would be the best time to tell them about their son. He did not want his heart to rush him into doing something unwise, and being in such close proximity to them every day would only force him to make a decision based more on emotion than logic. This was not his way. At least emotional behavior had not been his way before he met Lily. Dakota knew what emotion could drive a man to do. He knew well the damage that impulsiveness caused. He had learned it well from his father and remained determined not to repeat his father’s mistakes.

  Thus he had lived his life, as his grandfather Dyami liked to put it, strangling his needs into submission and erecting walls that imprisoned instead of protected him.

  “Man was not meant to live alone. That is why the tribe is the beginning and the end.”

  Dakota’s throat tightened thinking about his wise and respected grandfather.

  When Dakota had turned sixteen and informed Dyami he was leaving the reservation to make a way in the world on his own, his grandfather had done all he could to convince Dakota to stay. He had already lost a daughter. He did not wish to lose his grandson, his only blood relative, too.

  Much like the European and American pioneers and homesteaders settling in the territory all around them, however, Dakota had been eager for freedom and independence, both of which had been denied him as a member of his mother’s tribe.

  He knew his grandfather meant well and that his existence among his mother’s people was not as bad as it could have been. His grandfather had done much to smooth a way for him after Dakota’s parents had been killed and he had come to live on the reservation. There was but
so much, however, Dyami could do. He could not assuage Dakota’s grief or completely shield him from the isolation, ostracism, or discrimination of their people.

  Dakota stole glances at his host and hostess as he ate, heart filling.

  They were so much more than benefactors. They had become irreplaceable in the structure of his life. He could not imagine being without Lily and, yes, he even had a certain amount of fondness for her husband. If he could choose a man to be his brother, he would choose someone like the loyal and overprotective homesteader and cowboy Lily had married. He trusted her judgment and he himself was a good judge of character, so he knew that Wyatt was a good man.

  Dakota just wished he had known how things were between Lily and Wyatt before he had made his decision. He could have made contact and initiated a reunion much sooner and saved everyone so much grief. As it stood, he had only come into their lives because of divine intervention, not because he had elected to.

  Dakota closed his eyes and tried to picture a future with Wyatt and Lily and their son, settled down here, all of them living on the homestead as a family. He could clearly see the husband and wife sitting on the porch, indulgent smiles on their faces as they watched their son running and galloping in the fields, his pure childish giggles rising to the clear-blue sky above. He could not, however, see himself. He existed only as an indistinct figure on the periphery of the tableau, no better than a trespasser lurking in the shadows.

  Dakota had thought the connection he, Lily, and Wyatt had shared upstairs would survive and transcend their bedroom activities. He had not expected one sexual encounter to cement his place in Lily and Wyatt’s world or that all would be forgiven, but he had hoped…He had hoped for just once in his life he had found someplace where he belonged.

  Growing up with his mother and father, he had not belonged in either the white man’s world or the Indian’s world. He had existed in a gray, shadowy area between the two, a place reserved for the reviled and undesirables, worse than a vagabond. On the reservation, he had not fit in any better, living on the edge, never fully accepted by his people.

  Dakota snapped open his eyes at the gentle, warm touch of Lily’s hand on his forehead.

  “Aren’t you well, Dakota?”

  He swallowed and cleared his throat. He did not trust himself to speak right away or he would have displayed emotion he did not want Lily and Wyatt to see. It was humiliating enough to have Lily looking upon him as if he were an abandoned, bedraggled stray to be pitied. He did not want her pity. He wanted her love. He wanted her passion. He wanted to share his life—with her, with Wyatt and their son. “I am well.”

  “I don’t believe you. You look feverish.” She turned to Wyatt as if for assistance.

  “Don’t you think he looks feverish?”

  Wyatt shrugged, broke a biscuit in half, and popped a buttery piece into his mouth.

  Though he did not otherwise respond, Dakota saw his tolerant look, one that said, “You might as well get used to her mollycoddling you, pardner.” Dakota stifled a laugh at his imagination of Wyatt’s lazy drawl.

  Lily must have caught the look Wyatt gave Dakota, because she playfully slapped her husband’s arm. “Never mind you. He is feverish. He probably overexerted himself out in the field earlier. I told him it was too soon after his injury and not to overdo it, but he’s as stubborn as a mule. Remind you of anyone?”

  “I reckon I can’t say he does.” Wyatt arched an eyebrow. “And you can stop talking about him like he’s not here, you know.”

  “I believe I will.” Lily put a fist on her hip as she turned in her seat to face Dakota full.

  If he were not feeling so guilt-ridden and miserable about his deception, he might have found the humor in Lily and Wyatt’s interplay.

  Before Lily could say anything, Dakota took her hand and brought it down to his lips where he kissed the back of her wrist. “I am well,” he repeated. He felt Wyatt’s eyes on him but sensed more curiosity and wonder rather than anger and jealousy.

  Lily turned her hand in his and squeezed it as she stood. “You should go up to bed and rest. I’ll bring the rest of your food up on a tray and you can eat there.”

  “Lilybelle, he’s not a little nipper.”

  “I know that.”

  Dakota looked up at Lily, saw the genuine concern, and regretted being one of the sources of the worry lines on her forehead. He wanted to assure her that he was fine, but knew at this point she would not believe him. She was too bent on finding an outlet for her maternal anxiety. She needed someone to fuss over, and lacking her young son, she had a man recovering from an injury on which to turn her attentions.

  Dakota stood beside Lily, returning her firm grip. “Maybe you are right. I am feeling a little…tired.” He caught Wyatt’s grin as if Lily’s husband knew that Dakota was indulging her and he appreciated Dakota’s efforts.

  “I’ll be back down directly,” Lily said to Wyatt then led Dakota out of the kitchen.

  “Don’t rush on my account.”

  Wyatt’s chuckle followed them all the way up the stairs.

  Lily led Dakota to the guest room, directing him to the bed and helping him out of his moccasins and off with his pants before Dakota stopped her from further undressing him.

  “I believe I can handle things from here.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure you can.” Lily removed her hands from the waistband of his underwear, an item of clothing he only wore in deference to his host and hostess. “The problem is I wasn’t helping you out of your clothes because you needed the help but because I wanted to see you naked again.”

  Dakota’s mouth fell open on that, surprised by her directness.

  At his silence, Lily bustled to her feet. “Unless you are too tired and in that case I’m sorry for my presumptuousness.”

  Dakota quickly caught her hand before she could turn on her heels and leave. He drew her back to sit on the bed beside him. “I am never too tired to be with you. Tday, naw tane doe aim own.”

  Lily frowned. “That was beautiful. What did you just say?”

  “I love you with all my heart.” Dakota cupped her cheek before she could respond, too afraid that she would not return his sentiment. He drew her close for a kiss. He slipped his tongue past her parted lips, stroking hers, swallowing her gasp as he delved deeper to taste her spicy sweetness. His tongue danced with hers for a long moment before he guided her back against the mattress. Her robe fell open and he planted his knee between her naked thighs.

  “Oh, Dakota…I love you, too…”

  He was just about to dive into her headfirst but felt their missing third like a tingling amputated limb. Wyatt had been kind enough to let Dakota join him and Lily when they were all together, but he was not at all sure how Wyatt would feel about Dakota taking Lily alone.

  “Don’t stop on my account.”

  Dakota snapped up his head and glanced over his shoulder to see Wyatt leaning against the doorjamb as if conjured by Dakota’s guilt.

  “Wyatt…”

  “I said, don’t stop on my account.” Wyatt pushed himself off of the jamb and made his way across the room in a slow, rolling gait. He did not appear angry or uneasy. He did not appear like a man who had come upon his wife and another man he wanted to harm.

  Had he accepted Dakota into their ranks so simply? The prospect should have put Dakota at ease, but he felt even worse knowing of what he deprived the other man.

  How could he go on accepting Lily and Wyatt’s hospitality, knowing what he kept from both of them? If he acted like he did not want Lily’s attention now that Wyatt was here, however, he would look more guilt-ridden than not.

  “Tarnation, if you’re just going to leave our woman panting and wanting like that move over and let me tend to her…” Wyatt stood by the bed, feet planted, fists on his hips.

  Dakota moved off of Lily to sit beside her, still dazed but realizing at the last minute that Wyatt had referred to her as “our” woman, not “my” woman.<
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  Did Wyatt really accept Dakota as part of his family unit? Had Dakota finally found somewhere he fit in? Was he at last among people he belonged to and who belonged to him?

  As if to answer his unspoken questions, Lily stood from the bed, poised between both of them, and untied her robe. She let it fall from her shoulders, the soft material slithering down her arms and hips until it pooled around her ankles and feet in a puddle of blue-and-purple satin. “I belong to both of you.”

  Dakota watched as Wyatt stepped behind Lily and slid his arms around her waist while he nuzzled her throat.

  Instinctively, Dakota slid down to his knees before Lily, eager to worship at her pussy and taste all the pleasures that Wyatt had earlier. The scent of lavender mingled with her woman’s spicy musk wafted to him. He slid his hands up her silky thighs before grasping her ass in both hands and pulling her close.

  Dakota saw Wyatt take Lily’s breasts in his hands right before he buried his own face in her pussy and licked her from bottom to top. Lily shuddered in their grasp and spurred Dakota’s hunger even further.

  He thrust his tongue deep, her salty-sweet flavor bursting on his tongue like the nectar of a ripe piece of fruit into which he had bitten.

  Lily groaned beneath Dakota’s and Wyatt’s ministrations, her hips bucking against Dakota’s mouth as he sucked and licked her pussy with a fervor he had never really known before. He slid first one, then two fingers inside her, curving them up toward her belly button until he touched her pleasure spot.

  Lily went wild within his and Wyatt’s grip, grinding her hips against Dakota’s hand. He teased her swollen nub with his tongue and before he knew it, she was climaxing, her piquant dew spilling over his fingers and into his mouth as he drew the last drop from her.

  Dakota slowly removed his hand, pulling back to look up at Lily as she trembled in Wyatt’s arms and he petted and cooed to her.

  “Our sweet, wild Lilybelle…so much heat and fire you burn us up.”

  He was glad that Wyatt still had the ability and could speak for both of them because Dakota was struck dumb by the glow that encompassed Lily’s body, the rapturous look on her beautiful face. She was all the things Wyatt said and more. She was sweet and heat and fire. She was the woman of his dreams. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, even if she remained part and parcel of a marriage, maybe because she was part and parcel.