Nan Ryan

by Written in the Stars

  The hour grew late.

  Diane had become charmingly tipsy from the wine. Star was enchanted by the appealing young woman in his black silk robe. So enchanted he didn’t pull away when she suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, rose up to her knees on her padded, high-backed chair, leaned across the table, and curled her fingers around the wide silver bracelet on his wrist.

  “Tell me about the scar,” she said, slurring her words slightly.

  Lounging comfortably back in his chair, Star said gently, “Now, Diane, you know all about the scar. Golden Star surely told you.”

  “I want you to tell me.” Diane released her hold on the bracelet, placed both elbows on the table, and put her face in her hands.

  Star smiled. “Strange as it seems, I don’t remember a thing about it.”

  Diane laughed. “Gosh, I’m surprised.” Then: “Daughter-of-the-Stars surely told you everything. So you tell me. Please, Star. Please.”

  Star raised his wineglass and took a drink. “I’ll tell you, but then it’s time you go up to bed. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” she quickly assured him.

  Face cupped in her supporting hands, elbows on the dining table, Diane knelt there in her chair like a child, eagerly waiting. Star began to speak in that low, flat voice she found so irresistible.

  “It was thirty-five years ago. A hot, windy July night in 1860. I was one week old and asleep in my crib in a small frame house which sat on the banks of the Nevada’s Carson River.”

  Diane’s wide-eyed gaze was riveted to Star’s dark face as he spoke of the long-ago night which had so drastically altered his life.

  His black-sapphire eyes half hooded, Star took a drink of wine, swallowed slowly, and said, “Deep in the night a fire erupted in the valley. It swiftly spread across the rain-starved plain and moved toward the house where I slept beside my parents’ bed.

  “Just before the deadly flames reached us, a mighty Shoshoni chieftain and a small band of his braves rode out of the trees on the mountain high above. Chief Red Fox spotted the frame house in harm’s way. The chief immediately kicked his big paint and came plunging down the mountainside, his warriors following. Before they could reach the house, it was fully engulfed in flames.”

  Diane’s face was now screwed up into a worried frown. Her wide eyes had darkened to deep purple. Engrossed, she stared at Star, waiting, listening intently.

  “The heat was fierce.” His voice dropped, was barely above a whisper. “The roar of fire, the breaking of glass, and the creaking of burning timber were almost deafening. But Chief Red Fox felt drawn to the blaze. As if a powerful voice from the Spirit World were telling him he must go inside.

  “The brave chief kneed his terrified mount closer, so close his face was punished by the blistering heat and his eyes stung. Undaunted, Chief Red Fox moved closer. And closer. Until he heard the faint, unmistakable sound of a baby crying.”

  Star fell silent. Diane swallowed anxiously.

  “It was you. You were crying. You were the crying baby trapped in the burning house,” she said breathlessly.

  “Yes,” Star calmly replied. “The chief leaped off his horse and ran straight into the burning house. He found me crying in my crib beside my dead parents. He snatched me up, wrapped me in a blanket, and crashed through a window to safety just as the roof collapsed.”

  Star told Diane all he had learned of that fateful night when the Shoshoni chieftain had saved him from the fire. He was a master storyteller, and his soft, low narration was filled with colorful details and exciting drama. Diane felt as if the events were taking place before her very eyes.

  She listened enraptured as Starkeeper led up to the climax of the fascinating and true tale.

  “It was nearing dawn when Chief Red Fox rode back into his High Sierra stronghold with me in his arms. He dismounted and ducked into his lodge, ordering everyone out. Hopefully he laid me beside his distraught young wife, who had lost their firstborn son only days before.

  “Daughter-of-the-Stars regained her lost strength the minute she saw me. The beautiful Indian princess’s black eyes flashed with angry denial when the chief told her I was the white man’s son.”

  Again Star paused. Seconds passed before he spoke again. A hint of a smile touched his sensual lips as he looked back into the past.

  “Daughter-of-the-Stars boldly grabbed the sharp hunting knife from Red Fox’s waist scabbard, took my right wrist, slashed an X on the inside, bent, and kissed the blood away. She pricked the tip of her finger, stuck it into my mouth, and I automatically sucked on it. Then my beautiful Shoshoni mother possessively clutched me to her breasts and defiantly announced to the chieftain, ‘Now we are same blood! My son. Mine!’”

  His story told, Star concluded by saying, “So you see, I do have Shoshoni blood. I’m Indian, Diane.”

  Diane said nothing.

  She looked into his beautiful navy blue eyes, and her hands again went to the wide silver bracelet on his right wrist. Gently she turned his dark hand over atop the white tablecloth. She carefully pried the wide bracelet apart, slipped it off, and laid it aside.

  For a long moment she held his hand in both of her own and studied the perfect white X adorning the inside of his dark wrist.

  “Yes, Star,” she murmured, “you are Indian. My darling Indian, my love.”

  And Diane bent her head and pressed her open lips to his wrist, lovingly kissing the telltale white scar.

  Chapter 35

  Diane’s silky tongue was like liquid fire on Star’s flesh, and the words she’d softly spoken rang loudly in his ears. “My darling Indian, my love … my darling Indian, my love … my love … my love …”

  Diane felt the tendons in Star’s dark wrist constrict beneath her lips. She pressed the tip of her tongue to the center of the white X, then slowly lifted her head. Their eyes met. Hers dreamy, adoring. His narrowed, skeptical.

  Star drew his hand free. He pushed back his chair and stood up. He hesitated a moment, then leaned across the table, reaching for Diane. He plucked her out of the chair and lifted her up onto the table with such swift ease it took her breath away.

  Diane sat back on her heels atop the white-clothed dining table, expectancy shining out of her darkening violet eyes. Her pulse quickened alarmingly as Star’s right hand went into her hair, his lean fingers tangling in the heavy raven locks. He looked at her mouth for a long time.

  Diane’s heart began to pound with sweet anticipation. Honed muscles curved beneath Star’s perfectly tailored white shirt, and his handsome face betrayed all the emotions he was fighting so hard to conceal.

  “Star,” she said, placing a splayed hand on his chest, “my beautiful Indian. My love.”

  Star groaned aloud.

  And then … their long-delayed embrace, full of emotion and past any misunderstanding. His lips on hers were eager, urgent, wildly exciting. Diane thrilled to the mastery of his kiss and to the lean, deft hand that moved between them to yank decisively at the tied sash of her black silk robe.

  When finally their lips separated, their hearts were beating wildly, their blood was running swiftly, hotly through their veins.

  “Sweetheart,” Star muttered hoarsely, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the—”

  “Don’t, darling. It doesn’t matter. I love you,” she whispered breathlessly. “I do, Star, I do.”

  “Diane … ah, baby …”

  Both knew the idea of waiting until they climbed the stairs to his bed was out of the question. They couldn’t wait. The burning need they shared could not be denied nor delayed. They wanted each other.

  Right now. Right here.

  Star climbed up onto the table with Diane, dropping on one knee to kneel before her. “God, I want you,” he told her hoarsely. “Sweetheart, I have to have you.”

  “I’m yours, Star,” she assured him, realizing sadly that he hadn’t said he loved her. “Yours, whenever or wherever you want me. I love you, my darling.”

  And then a
ll manner of civility and restraint disappeared as pent-up passions were swiftly unleashed. Both were so anxious they began frantically undressing each other right where they were.

  Whispering his name like a litany over and over, Diane clawed at the buttons of Star’s white shirt. Murmuring tender endearments to her, Star snatched the untied sash from Diane’s robe and tossed it away. Her violet eyes darkening to purple with growing arousal, Diane rose fully up on her knees, frantically tugging the long tails of Star’s shirt from his tight beige trousers. His dark eyes gleaming with fierce sexual heat, Star swept Diane’s robe apart, pushed it to her shoulders. Heart fluttering in her naked breasts, Diane’s searching fingers went to Star’s belt buckle and then to the buttons of his beige trousers.

  They anxiously kissed and intimately caressed and wildly wrestled halfway out of their clothing, so hot and impatient for each other they were incapable of waiting until they were totally undressed.

  When their yearning bodies came eagerly together, one leg of Star’s beige trousers was still twisted stubbornly around his ankle, snagged and caught on the moccasin that remained on his right foot. A bunched-up sleeve of Diane’s black robe was tangled around the elbow of her left arm, the robe itself swirled out and draped over the table’s edge.

  It didn’t matter.

  Lying flat on her back on the long dining table with the darkly handsome Star looming over her, Diane felt pleasure swamping her. She thought she would surely faint when Star came swiftly into her, the heat and hardness of him awesome. Wondrous. Her head was leaning back into his cupped hand, neither of them kissing, but their mouths were very close, her lips full and parted.

  As soon as Star thrust fully, deeply into Diane, he drew her long, slender legs up around his back, leaned down, and kissed her parted lips. Diane moaned into his mouth, tightened her strong thighs around his waist, and arched up to him, wanting to feel him move within her. Star wanted the same thing.

  He slid his hands up her delicate ribs to her underarms. He rose onto his knees, bringing Diane up with him. His hot, hungry mouth remaining fused with hers, he sat back on his heels, spread his knees wide, and settled Diane astride his hard thighs.

  Diane finally tore her burning lips from his. Her breath was loud and rapid, her face awash with color. She wrapped her arms around Star’s neck and trembled with pleasure when he lowered his head to her breast, the hot tip of his tongue flicking out to sear her aching nipples. She inhaled the fragrance of his clean raven hair and forcefully ground her pelvis down on the hard, pulsing flesh rapidly expanding inside her.

  Star raised his head. He drew a deep, ragged breath and said with appealing honesty, “God, you’re good. You’re loving me so good, baby. So damned good.”

  Diane smiled, pleased, clasped her hands behind his dark head, stiffened her arms, and leaned back to look into his sultry dark eyes. Star’s strong hands were at her waist, urging, guiding, bringing her to him. For a few lovely seconds the pair enjoyed the incredible thrill of watching each other closely as they engaged in the age-old act of lovemaking.

  It was fleeting joy that had no equal. Diane observed and savored the changing expressions on Star’s handsome face. The love shining out of his beautiful dark eyes. The laying open of his heart and soul to her. Star experienced the same intense thrill watching her.

  It was electrifying.

  Their pleasure swiftly escalated, and too soon the initial tingles and spasms of their shared climax began. Both in excellent health with perfectly toned bodies which moved together like well-oiled machines, the excited pair made very energetic, highly physical love. While the chandelier above their heads cast honeyed light over their moving, surging bodies and a strong night breeze ruffled the heavy curtains at the room’s open windows yet did nothing to cool their ardor, Diane and Star wildly, shamelessly mated atop that cloth-draped dining table.

  “Star … Star …” Diane gasped as the muscles across her flat stomach constricted in an erotic spasm.

  “Yes, sweetheart, yes,” Star said, his hands filled with the rounded cheeks of her bare bottom, drawing her to him, his driving strokes becoming faster, deeper.

  Diane gasped again, arching against him. She could feel the thrusting vibrations coming up through her. Her hands curled around the nape of his neck, her purple eyes widened, and she cried out as together they climaxed, the rapture so intense it was frightening.

  When finally the fierce explosion had passed, Diane’s face was flushed, her hair damp at the temples. Her head sagged to Star’s shoulder, and she pressed her palms against his sweaty chest. They stayed like that for a time, locked together, panting, resting, regaining their lost breaths.

  His hands gently stroking Diane’s slender back, Star sighed heavily and began to smile against her tousled dark hair. Her face pressed into the curve of his neck and shoulder, Diane, moaning softly and kissing his slick flesh, began to smile as well. Star locked his wrists behind Diane’s waist. His body began to shake with laughter. Her smile broadening, Diane raised her head, looked at his handsome, laughing face, and she, too, began to laugh.

  The gloriously sated pair laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Suddenly it seemed hilarious that the two of them were naked on their knees atop a white-clothed table in a formal dining room. So they laughed. They laughed at themselves. They laughed at each other. They laughed with pure, unadulterated joy.

  Faces hot, tears rolling down their cheeks, they fell tiredly over onto the table. And continued to laugh. They laughed until their stomachs hurt. They laughed because they were together, because they were happy, because they were in love. They laughed because they could laugh. Because there was no one to hear them, no one to see them, no one to think they’d gone quite mad. They laughed because here in this delightfully remote mountain mansion they were free to laugh and to make love on the dining table. Or on the living-room floor. Or outside on the balcony if they wished.

  So they lay sprawled there on the table, their naked bodies entangled, laughing and kissing and shaking their heads, enjoying to the fullest the frolic and fun and the freedom that was theirs.

  At last Star coughed, cleared his throat, and said, “Think we can make it up to my bedroom now?”

  “We can give it a try,” said Diane, not at all certain she could.

  Star rolled up into a sitting position and reached for Diane. She sat up beside him and pushed her heavy hair out of her eyes. Then promptly went into fits of new laughter when she saw that Star had on one moccasin and that a twisted leg of his beige trousers was still around his muscular calf.

  Laughing with her, Star kicked off the moccasin, watching it sail across the room. Then he swung his legs over the table’s edge, straightened his tangled trousers, drew them up both legs, and slid off the table into them. Buttoning the pants up over his flat brown belly, he turned back to face Diane. Up on her knees, she was drawing on the black silk robe. She looked about for the sash, saw it draped over a silver candelabrum atop the buffet.

  “Star, will you hand me that—”

  “Nope,” he said, scooped her off the table, and carried her out of the dining room. He walked through the living room, into the foyer, climbed the marble stairs, went down the long corridor, and stepped inside the one room of the house which Diane had not yet seen.

  His bedroom.

  “Star,” Diane exclaimed when he kicked the door closed behind them, “this is your room?”

  Nodding, he said, “Mine. And yours. Ours.”

  “Darling, it’s—it’s fabulous.” She squirmed, wanting him to lower her to her feet so she could have a look around.

  Diane had never seen anything to compare with Star’s spacious bedroom. The entire back wall was of gleaming plate glass. Over his shoulder she looked out through the wall of glass at the towering pines and twisted rock formations, silvered by the moonlight. She saw the leaves of the trees trembling in the chill night winds, the clouds drifting across the sky.

  “Star, put me down
.… I want to—”

  “Tomorrow, sweetheart,” said Star, moving with determined strides across the room.

  He reached the oversize bed and continued to hold Diane with one arm. With the other he made short work of peeling the sumptuous fox fur counterpane to the foot of the bed and turning down the beige silk sheets. Still holding her, Star relieved Diane of the black robe, dropped it to the plush beige carpet, then leaned over and gently laid her in the middle of his bed.

  When he straightened to unbutton his pants, Diane sat up and looked about, her violet eyes round. She touched the bed’s tall headboard, which was plushly padded and upholstered in raw silk of a deep rust hue. The same raw silk covered the walls of the bedroom.

  “Star,” she said, “I’ve never seen such a big bed. A half dozen people could sleep in it.” She stretched her legs out and rubbed her toes against the soft fur counterpane.

  “Not as long as I own the place,” Star said in that low, flat voice as he crawled in beside her.

  Diane flashed him a bright smile. But when he put a long arm around her to draw her to him, she braced a hand against his chest, and said, “Can’t I look around, Star? You know I’ve never been in this room.” They lay on their sides, facing each other.

  “Later,” he told her, smoothing her hair back off her bare shoulder. “Right now I want to make love to you.”

  “Darling, you just made love to me.” Her violet eyes flashed in the shadowy light.

  Star smiled, drew her long, slender leg up over his hip, and said, “No, sweetheart, I don’t mean like that. I want to love you properly. To love you the way you should be loved.” His hand glided slowly up her thigh and over her hip to the small of her back. “Kiss me. Kiss me, Diane.”

  His lips touched hers, and Diane opened her mouth to receive his kiss. Star’s mouth answered with a slow burning, lingering caress. With his lips on hers, he stroked her back, up and down, with the sensitive tips of his long fingers. Diane sighed deeply, and Star continued kissing her sweetly, tenderly, letting her know they had all the time in the world.