Comanche Moon (11 page)

Lowering his hand to her belly, he pressed his palm against her spasm-stricken muscles and kneaded away the tightness. She felt like a sensitive harp string, thrummed by expert fingers. Horrified by her body’s reaction, she tried to twist free, but he threw a damp, buckskin-clad leg over both of hers and pinned her to the fur. Her back stung each time she moved, the pain so sharp it made beads of sweat pop out on her brow. Her thighs felt as if they were on fire.

‘‘M-mm-m, you are still hot,’’ he mumbled. His hand lingered on her belly. ‘‘Not too bad where the sun did not touch, though. The fever is better.’’

No man had ever dared touch her like this. She tossed her head from side to side, strained to get her arms and legs free, then shuddered in defeat.

‘‘Do not fight.’’ His voice was so close, it seemed to come from within her own mind. ‘‘You cannot win, eh? Rest.’’ His sleepy whispers invaded her whole being, slow, hypnotic, persuasive. He rubbed her in a circular motion, pausing in sleep, then coming awake to rub some more. ‘‘Lie still. Trust this Comanche. It is for the burn, no? To heal your skin.’’

As he slid his palm slowly downward, she realized she was slick with some kind of oil. Her heart drummed a sensual alto, off-key to the soprano shrills of fear emitted by her nerve endings.
No, please, no.

He molded his hand to the slight mound between her thighs, searching out its external softness, his fingertips undulating in a subtle manipulation that shot bolts of sensation to the core of her. Nuzzling her hair again, he sighed, his warm breath raising goose bumps on her neck.

‘‘Ah, Blue Eyes, your mother did not lie. You are sweet.’’

He gave the conjuncture of her thighs a farewell caress, then traced the curve of her hip with a hand that skimmed the painfully burned flesh there so lightly that she scarcely felt it. The pressure of his palm increased when it gained purchase on her ribs where the sun had not reached. His hand tightened its grip, squeezed, and released so rhythmically that it seemed to keep time with the strange, blood-pounding beat inside her. It was as if he had begun the rhythm within her, as if he somehow knew the thrusts, the lulls, better than she.

Held captive now by more than bonds and strength of arm, she turned her face to study his, fascinated by the sleepy innocence that clouded his half-closed eyes. The merciless killer was gone, replaced by a drowsy, mischievous boy who stroked her as if she were a newly acquired pet. A slow smile curved his mouth, a dreamy smile that told her he was more asleep than awake. He moved closer to whisper something unintelligible against her cheek. Her lips tingled, then parted. She found herself wondering how it might have felt if he had kissed her, then cringed at the wayward thought. Comanches didn’t kiss, they just took. And her time was running out.

With the tip of his tongue, he outlined her ear.
‘‘Topsannah, tani-har-ro.’’
The words came out so slurred, she doubted he even knew he was saying them. ‘‘Prairie flower,’’ he muttered, ‘‘in springtime.’’

He fell silent. His arm around her waist went lifeless and heavy. His breathing changed, becoming measured and deep. The mahogany fringe of his eyelashes rested on his cheeks. Loretta stared, incredulity sweeping over her in waves. He was fast asleep. And she was pinned beneath his arm and leg. She wrinkled her nose. The fur of the buffalo robe tickled, and it smelled sharply of smoke and bear grease. Probably full of lice and fleas, too, she thought with disgust, then promptly began to itch, which was sheer torture because she couldn’t scratch.

His hand rested on her ribs like an anchor. Though escape was impossible, bound as she was, being so close to him made her feel claustrophobic. Slowly, ever so slowly, she tried to ease out from under him, only to have him go tense again and pull her back into the crook of his body. ‘‘Sleep,’’ he murmured. ‘‘We will make war tomorrow, no?’’

Loretta strained her neck to see over the fur. Some distance away, the other Indians stood in groups around small fires, some yawning, some wide awake with tin cups in their hands. One man was staring in her direction. She quickly ducked her head under the robe, but not fast enough. Moments later she heard the faint whisper of moccasins approaching. Leather swished. She sensed the presence of someone beside her and slitted her eyelids. Through her lashes, she saw obsidian eyes looking down at her from a dark face framed by blue-black hair. She recognized this Indian. He was the one who had spoken in her behalf that first day, the one who had not wanted her killed. It didn’t make her fear him less.

To her horror, the man lifted the edge of the robe to look at her shoulder. Frantic, she jerked at the leather that held her hands behind her. This was her worst nightmare.
Comanches.
Not one, but two. And she couldn’t even fight them. If he yanked the robe off her, there would be nothing she could do but lie there in shame.

Hunter stirred and yawned, then rose up on one elbow to bark in Comanche, ‘‘What is it,
tah-mah
? Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?’’

‘‘I just came to check the woman.’’

Hunter squinted at the sun and sighed. ‘‘So, how does she look?’’ He sat up and drew the robe farther down her shoulder, taking care not to uncover her breast, laughing softly at the horrified expression on her face. Of all the men, his brother, Warrior, would be least likely to harm her. He was a fierce fighter but otherwise gentle, more apt to defend her than attack her. ‘‘It seems better to me. The grease, maybe. Not such a deep red. Old Man was right about the cold water chasing away the fever, too. She’s hot, but nothing like she was.’’

Warrior pressed a palm to her skin. ‘‘Old Man says if you don’t keep her cool, the fever will come upon her again.’’

‘‘Not another bath?’’ Hunter propped an elbow on his upraised knee and rubbed his forehead. All trace of laughter fled. He didn’t relish the thought of the battle he’d have with her. ‘‘Don’t wake me with news like that. Bring me coffee first.’’

‘‘Not another bath, but no traveling in the heat. We’ll have to stay here a few days.’’

‘‘You’re willing to risk that? What about the
tosi tivo
?’’

Breaking open a mullein leaf, Warrior laved his fingertips with healing juice and applied it to the frightened girl’s cheeks. She shrank back—only to run into Hunter, which made her flinch. ‘‘We’re probably safer here, right under their noses, than we would be miles away. When we circled back, we covered our trail well. You have to remember how stupid the
tosi tivo
are. They will follow the trails the others laid and never even think to look for us here, so close.’’

‘‘Yes, but—’’

‘‘She’s your woman. If the situation were reversed, you would risk it.’’

Hunter grew impatient with his struggling captive and caught a handful of her braid to hold her still. ‘‘There, I’ve got her. The nose is worst. On the end where it curves up. Her forehead, too,
tah-mah.
’’

Warrior dabbed juice and smiled. ‘‘She doesn’t like me. Come to think of it, she doesn’t seem any too fond of you.’’

Leaning farther forward, Hunter took another look at her face. Her eyes were as big as a startled doe’s. Twinkling laughter lit up his own. ‘‘She doesn’t look as if she wants to spit today, eh? Give me a week, and she’ll be broken to ride.’’

‘‘You blow like the wind.’’ Warrior raised a sarcastic eyebrow and tossed aside the used mullein. ‘‘You taught me all I know about being a warrior,
tah-mah
, but when it comes to reluctant women, you are as clumsy as a new bear cub.’’

‘‘That’s because they’re never reluctant.’’

‘‘Oh-ho,’’ Warrior said with a chuckle. ‘‘I seem to remember differently. Willow by the Stream didn’t exactly race from the central fire to your tipi on your wedding night. You made her dance until she was so tired she wouldn’t make a fuss.’’ A tense silence rose between them, a silence heavy with memories. ‘‘I’m sorry,
tah-mah.
I spoke her name without thinking.’’

‘‘It has been many winters. My heart is no longer laid upon the ground.’’ Hunter rested a heavy hand on the girl’s bare shoulder, his frown thoughtful. ‘‘So, we will camp here? Has anyone scouted the area? You’re sure it’s safe?’’

‘‘Swift Antelope and Red Buffalo checked for trackers last night and this morning. As crazy as it sounds, Red Buffalo claims the girl’s
ap
hasn’t even gone for help yet.’’

‘‘He’s such a coward, he’s probably waiting to be sure we’re gone. I’m surprised his women haven’t ridden to the fort for help. They are by far the better fighters.’’

Scarcely aware he was doing it, Hunter feathered his thumb back and forth on the girl’s arm, careful not to press too hard because of her burn. She was as silken as rabbit fur. Glancing down, he saw that her skin was dusted with fine, golden hair, noticeable now only because her sunburn formed a dark backdrop. Fascinated, he touched a fingertip to the fuzz. In the sunshine she glistened as though someone had sprinkled her with gold dust.

‘‘Swift Antelope still hasn’t stopped talking about the younger one,’’ Warrior said. ‘‘Her courage impressed him so much, I think he may be smitten. I have to admit, though, once you get used to looking at them, the golden hair and blue eyes grow on you.’’

‘‘Maybe you should take her across the river and sell her, eh?’’

‘‘I could double my investment.’’ With a grin, Hunter pulled the robe back over her. She reacted by shrinking away from him, and he gave a disgusted snort. ‘‘She must think we’re hungry and she’s going to be breakfast.’’

‘‘Speaking of which, are you going to feed her?’’

‘‘In an hour or so. If we’re staying here today, I can go back to sleep.’’ He drew his knife and cut the leather on Loretta’s wrists. ‘‘Wake me if the sun gets on her, eh?’’

‘‘You’d better keep her tied.’’

‘‘Why?’’ A yawn stretched Hunter’s dark face.

‘‘Because she’s looking skittish.’’

‘‘She’s naked.’’ Sheathing his knife, Hunter flopped on his back and shaded his eyes with one arm. ‘‘She won’t run. Not without clothes. I’ve never seen such a bashful female.’’

‘‘The
tosi tivo
truss up their females in so many clothes, it would take a whole sleep just to undress one. Then they have them wear breeches under the lot. How do they manage to have so many children? I’d be so tired by the time I found skin, I’d never get anything else done.’’

‘‘You’d think of something,’’ Hunter said with a chuckle.

‘‘You know, once you fall asleep, she could go for your knife. You want to wake up with your throat slit?’’

‘‘She’s more likely to kill herself than me. You know how they are.’’ Hunter’s mouth lifted at the corners. ‘‘Her honor is gone. A man has seen her naked. As
boisa
as it sounds, that’s how they think.’’

‘‘Want some help watching her?’’

Hunter threw back his head and laughed. ‘‘Just wake me when the shade leaves, you horny old man. Come anyplace close and I’ll tell Maiden of the Tall Grass. She’ll burn your dinner for a month.’’

Loretta watched the other Indian leave, her heart slamming wildly with relief. It was short-lived. Hunter turned onto his side and snaked an arm under the buffalo robe, catching her around the waist. He was fully awake now, and she had no idea what to expect from him when he pulled her close. She scarcely dared breathe, she was so frightened. He snugged his hand beneath her breast and nuzzled his face against the back of her neck.

‘‘You will sleep now, Yellow Hair,’’ he whispered. ‘‘I must rest. It will be a very long journey home.’’

Home. Loretta listened to the hum of the river and stared sightlessly into the woods. Oh, how she longed to be home. The morning fire would be warming the loft right now. And she would be snuggled under the gray down quilt with Amy, waking to the smells of coffee and pork slab in the fry pan. She recognized the Brazos River. The farm was so close. The Indians were clever, she’d give them that. The rangers would never think to look for them here, never in a thousand years. Tears filled her eyes. She tried to stop them, but they ran in rivers down her cheeks. Her stomach started quivering. Her chest heaved.

The Comanche rose on an elbow to look down at her, then touched her cheek. After staring for a long while at the moistness that came away on his finger-tips, he sighed and lay back down, wrapping his arm around her again. ‘‘You will stop this.’’

Loretta held her breath. But she could only hold it for so long. The instant she drew air, a jagged sob knifed its way down her windpipe.

‘‘You will stop,’’ he hissed. ‘‘This Comanche will blow hard at you like the wind.’’

Loretta squeezed her eyes closed. She thought of her parents. She wondered if one of these men had taken her mother’s scalp. Oh, mercy, she had to get away. . . .

As if he guessed her thoughts, he cinched his arm more tightly around her. ‘‘You cannot go back. You are my woman now.
Suvate,
it is finished. You will be quiet and sleep.’’

A hiccup caught crosswise in her throat. He groaned and gave her a light shake.

‘‘You did not hear? You will stop the tears. I have spoken it. Don’t test my temper, Yellow Hair. It is a warning I make for you, eh? Disobey me and we will fight the great fight.’’

Loretta again tried to stifle herself by holding her breath. She had no idea what ‘‘the great fight’’ was, but it was a foregone conclusion that he would win. When her air rushed out, it erupted, wet and shaky. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

Hunter snarled something at her and leaped to his feet. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped around in front of her and stared down at her contorted features with a thoroughly disgruntled expression playing upon his own. ‘‘You will have stopped this when I return. You understand?’’

She nodded, averting her face to deflect her shame.
His woman?
The moment he touched her, she would be ruined forever. She’d never be able to go home. People would stare at her and whisper behind her back. Hunter strode off toward the other men. Loretta sobbed in earnest then. All the fear, the exhaustion, the tension of the last twenty-four hours, came pouring out of her. She cried until there were no more tears and no energy left with which to shed them. Then she fell into an exhausted slumber, her last thought being that she had to escape.