Say You Love Me (26 page)

Twisting her hands ever so slightly, he let them go, and they moved upward to clutch the hardness of his shoulders as she opened her mouth yet wider so he could drink the nectar of her acquiescence.

He rolled to his side, taking her with him, reaching to cup her breasts and squeeze with tender possession. She was molded against him, and time seemed to stand still, but then he was rising, taking her with him, leading her, his gaze locked hypnotically on hers in the streaming moonlight, to the blankets spread on less rocky ground. There, he held her away from him, reveling in the serene beauty of her face illumined by the kissing light sent from heaven above. Slowly he reached to lift the hem of her dress, sliding it up to her waist, then on upward, and she raised her arms so he could easily remove it. Flinging it into the shadows, she stepped from her drawers, then helped him with the fastenings of her chemise. The buckskin garment was not meant to be worn with undergarments, but Jacie had been shy—till now.

And then she was naked before him, and he ran his hands up and down her back, liking the feel of her, the tight curves of her buttocks, the trim firmness of her thighs, marveling at her tiny waist. He trailed his fingertips around to once more touch the fullness of her breasts, to pinch ever so tenderly the hardness of her nipples.

She was close against him, aware there was very little left between them now, only the breechclout, and his desire was evidenced there. He was a head taller, and she could not stop looking at the rugged handsomeness of his face, the granite lines, softened with lust as he smiled ever so slightly. His hair hung about his massive shoulders, which she clutched as though too frightened to let go. But then she yielded a little more and left her innocence further behind her as she dared to trail her hands lower—first to savor and squeeze the corded muscles of his arms and then to caress the sinewy hardness of his chest.

As though with a mind of their own, her fingers played onward, smoothing across his rocklike belly, then boldly going to explore rigid hips... the lines of brawny thighs.

He kissed her again and held her so close their hearts seemed to beat as one. When they were breathless, he moved to trail his lips down her throat, and she threw her head back in divine submission.

Downward he went, savoring, suckling each nipple, evoking delicious sighs from deep in her throat as he thrust her bosom forward to take yet more.

Luke dropped to his knees, burrowing his face in her belly, cupping her buttocks and pulling her tight. And when Jacie thought she could stand no more, when she was sure she would die if he did not take her where her body screamed to go, he drew her down with him to the ground.

"It is your first time," he murmured hotly. Not a question but a statement, for he was sure she had never had a man before. "It will hurt a little, but I will be gentle."

Jacie could not speak, for she was too caught up in the enchanting aura of passion gone wild. Easier it would have been to turn the wind to blow away the moon than try and resist the surge of her body's craving to satiate the hunger unleashed. She allowed him to spread her legs, and bend her knees, and wrap her about him. And when he entered, slowly at first, she cried out, but only a little, for quickly the pleasure of their coupling smothered any discomfort or pain. She gave herself to him freely, clutching his back to hold him tighter against her as he rocked to and fro.

His movements quickened, then slowed, for he was not about to take his pleasure before giving hers. He stopped, staying inside her as his hands caressed her breasts, her face, his tongue touching hers in exquisite joy. They were locked in time.

Jacie dug her nails into his shoulders, dizzily aware of his wound, trying not to touch it. But if he felt discomfort, he gave no indication. She pressed against him, eager for more of this strange new world he had taken her to and never wanting to leave it.

He could feel her cresting and he took her then, thrusting mightily until both of them were sated and lay in each other's arms, awed by the splendor of the moment.

For a long time, Luke did not speak, nor did he want to. He was savoring the sweet afterglow and the realization that never, after more women than he could count, could he remember anything so pleasurable. No one else had ever given him so much of herself, and Luke was awed to think that a part of her would somehow be with him forever more.

Jacie lay with her head snuggled against his shoulder, lost in wonder over what it all meant. And she too silently acknowledged that nothing in her life would ever be the same. No matter where fate led her, she would never forget her first lover, her Comanche lover... nor did she want to.

Somewhere a coyote howled, and Jacie instinctively wriggled even closer. Luke smiled and tightened his hold on her and said, "Don't worry, little one. You saved my life again, so now I suppose I am honor-bound to protect you."

Reality was like cold water in her face.
This cannot be,
Jacie told her rapidly pounding heart.
I cannot let it be. It's a warm, sweet interlude between two people, alone together in the wilderness. That's all it is...all I will let it be, and I must remember why I'm here.

She pulled away from him and sat up, drawing the blanket to cover her nakedness. "I don't ask you to protect me, Luke, only to take me where I want to go. This shouldn't have happened, and it can't happen again," she said tremulously.

Luke was also hurtled back to reality but was confused by what he was feeling for her, which made him respond coldly. "It only happened because you wanted it, too. And that's the only way it will happen again. As for taking you where you want to go, I don't think you even know where that is." He got up and walked toward the stream.

Jacie stared after him, thinking, despite her resolve, how magnificent his body in the moonlight.

He has to take me, she thought desperately, and soon, because if he doesn't, God help me, I might not want to go....

Chapter 21

Jacie awoke from a restless sleep. Luke had bedded down on the other side of the scrub brush, and when she pushed through it, she found he was already up and saddling his horse. He was dressed in army trousers once more and wearing boots. As she faced him, she felt a warm rush to recall the way he had held her, kissed her, and hoped her face was not flushed.

"Are we going somewhere?" she asked.

Luke gave a curt nod. He had lain awake all night, angry with himself for what had happened, madder still to admit he cared for her. A hell of a lot. And not just for the pleasure they had shared. Something was stirring in his heart, causing an inner battle that he was losing. And it wasn't anything like what he had felt for Amelia. He had eventually come to realize that had only been a melding of the flesh, but with Jacie it was different, in a way he did not like to think about.

Toward dawn he had made the decision it was best to get her out of Texas, out of the west, and send her back to the man waiting to marry her. "Get your things," he said, a little gruffly. "We're getting out of here."

Jacie was puzzled by his tone but too happy that they were leaving to dwell on it. He probably wanted to forget last night as much as she did. Surely they would part soon, and then they'd never see each other again, which was best, she tried to tell her aching heart.

They rode out into the early morning sunshine, and Jacie drank deeply of the fresh, crisp air, making an attempt to ease the tension. "This is my favorite time of year back home. Buckeyes and oaks and poplars and black gums are dripping with gold and blazing against the sky. It's good-eating time, too." Her stomach gave a hungry growl. "Apples and pumpkins and raspberries. My—my
aunt
," she said, having to correct herself again, for it was still hard to think of Violet as anything except her mother, "would make apple butter in a big kettle over a hickory-fed fire, and I'll never forget how good it smelled. Mehlonga showed me how to cook lots of things too, like a soup made
of parched corn."

"Did this Mehlonga also teach you to throw the knife?"

"Yes. He wanted me to be able to protect myself."

"I would never have given it back to you if I'd known you had a warrior's skill. He taught you well. Tell me, when you return home, will you be a medicine woman there?"

Jacie was glad for the chance to talk, because when there was silence, there was also an awareness, and she wondered if he was recalling last night's splendor, as she was. "No. A planter's wife has a lot of responsibilities. Michael has a big house and many servants working there. I'll eventually be in charge of them, as well as planning socials. He might run for political office one day, you see, and—"

"I don't care about him." He cut her off suddenly, sharply, to ask with contempt, "These servants you speak of—they are actually slaves, aren't they?"

Jacie felt uneasy. "Well, actually the Blake family never refer to their Negroes as slaves. They're treated quite well, you see."

"Can they leave if they want to?"

"I—I don't think so," she stammered, but rushed to add, "but they have no place else to go, no way to earn money for food and shelter, clothes. The Blakes take care of them. It's the way it's always been."

"They are still slaves, and it is wrong, but maybe you disagree. Maybe you think it's all right to hold a man against his will."

"No, I don't."

"But you will marry a man who does."

Jacie fell silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully in hopes of making him understand. "He can't help it. He has thousands of acres of land and he could never afford to hire Negroes to work it. And he inherited the plantation, as well as most of the workers, who were bought by his grandfather when he first came to this country."

"It's still wrong. A man should be free for all of his life. That is what my people are struggling for—freedom, and the land that's rightfully theirs. Your people want to take it away. I think they'd also make slaves of us if they could."

Jacie, resentment bubbling, fired back, "Well, you have no right to criticize. I'll remind you that if my mother is still alive, she's been a slave of your people for over eighteen years."

"She's not—" Luke caught himself. He'd been about to say Sunstar was not a slave, that she had been revered not only as the wife of a chief but eventually respected as a shaman. Damn it, he needed to rid himself of this woman who filled him with lust and confusion, before she discovered he was hiding the truth from her.

Jacie was watching him with eyes narrowed. "She's not
what
?" she said slowly, quietly. "It sounds as though you know something about my mother after all."

"Not your mother," he lied. "The yellow-haired woman I told you about. She was married to a chief, and she learned to love his people as much as they came to love her. She was very happy."

Grudgingly, Jacie said, "Well, if she fell in love with someone, I guess I can understand that."

"Can you?"

"Yes, because I believe that when you love someone, it doesn't matter who or what they are."

"And you feel this way about the man you are going to marry?" Luke wanted to bite his tongue. Why couldn't he let it go? If he didn't get rid of her soon, he was going to make a fool of himself, say the wrong thing and make her really suspicious, and he didn't want that. He wanted her to go home and not look back, never to wonder what she might have discovered had she stayed to search relentlessly.

But then he realized she was not responding to his question and was instead staring at something scurrying among the rocks. Deliberately changing the subject, she asked what it was, and he seized the opportunity to also get his mind on other matters. He explained that the small, fat, reddish-brown animal was called a prairie dog. "When he sees an enemy, he'll sit up on his haunches and make a yapping sound like a dog to alert others of his kind in the vicinity. Actually, they're a good source of food, but small. My people like them as a change from buffalo meat, and the young boys learn the rudiments of stalking game with bow and arrow by hunting them. They're quick and wiry and..."

He fell silent and reined to a stop, holding up his hand to signal she should do likewise.

Jacie had been listening with interest but realized something had caught his attention and followed his gaze to the rocks overhanging. At once she reached for her knife, but Luke had anticipated what she would do and caught her arm and held it.

"Don't," he said sharply. "There is no need."

Jacie did not share his optimism. The huge cat was staring down at them emitting low, ominous growls and looked as though it were going to spring any second. "Shoot him," she whispered thinly, noticing Luke had not reached for a weapon. "He's going to attack."

As though able to hear and comprehend the death sentence Jacie decreed, the cougar opened its mouth to display lethal fangs as it let loose a scream that went to the very marrow of their bones.

But still Luke made no move. Instead, he fastened the cat with a steely gaze and began to speak to it in the Comanche language.