Soul of a Crow (15 page)

“
Sawyer
,” I demanded in a gasp, the silk dress spreading to a puddle around my knees as I reached to yank open his trousers.

He kicked free of them and caught me against his naked body at last, taking me to my back, where I twisted and writhed in attempt to be closer to him, running my calves along his waist, along the sides of his hips, trembling beneath him as he caressed me, shallowly and then at last within. Soft cries of pleasure and love, the sweetness and heat of him as he stroked me, his teeth closing lightly over my earlobes, my lower lip, my chin. He claimed my mouth, his tongue delving deep, as were his fingers below. His hard length urged at the juncture of my legs and he begged, “
Touch me
.”

I reached fervently to take him in hand, my body convulsing to feel him against my skin at long last.

“Now, please,
now
,” I ordered, and he groaned as though I'd caused him physical pain as he linked our bodies and surged fully within me.

“Lorie,” he gasped, remaining perfectly still, reverent, for the space of a heartbeat, our foreheads lightly touching, before my insistent urging propelled him into motion. His voice was low, hoarse with emotion, as he breathed, “How I love you.”

I kissed his neck, his chest, my legs spread beneath him, hips thrusting to meet his deep strokes. I clung to him and was soon beyond all sense, wild, wordless sounds of joy flowing between us. His body called forth responses from mine that no one had before. Love transformed the act into something glorious, its true nature laid bare to me at last in those moments with my new husband.

Just the thought caused my body to spill over, tightening around him as he groaned and I tilted my hips to take him even deeper. He twined my loose hair in his fingers, our kisses lush and deep, wet and sensual, as though we could never give or take enough of one another. Our souls meshed between us, crackling together in bursts like heat lightning, and though it was just beyond the limited ability of our eyes, I could sense that he felt it, too, the joining that leaped far beyond the physical. Time ceased to mean anything as our bodies intertwined and curled and plunged as one, carrying us somewhere unexplainable, past all words.

I only knew that it was as it should be; it was right.

Much later, as dawn cast its first light into our tent, we lay still, sweating and exhausted, our limbs tangled together. I understood that if the world somehow ceased to exist today, or if we were meant to die this very afternoon, then the hours of last night would make everything worth it. I rested, warm and blissfully sated, as he stroked soft patterns between my shoulder blades. Just as I was about to surrender to sleep, I spied for the first time the bouquet from our handfasting, neatly arranged into a tin cup of water and positioned near the bedding, surely by sweet Malcolm.

Love could pierce a heart in a thousand places at once.

Sawyer murmured and shifted his left leg gently between both of mine, his eyes closed, arms locked around me. My nerves were still feverish with the intensity of our loving and though he had just left my body, in spite of the tenderness, I craved him back within. I reached to draw his leg flush between mine, closing my thighs around it, sending small surges of pleasure through me. He smiled sleepily and I rocked my hips against him. He opened one eye and the right side of his mouth lifted higher into a lopsided grin.

“Come here, darlin',” he said, low and soft, but with determination. “Come here to me.”

So saying, he drew me under him, my arms winding around his neck as his beautiful hawk eyes smiled down into mine. It hurt a little as his solid hardness, his length, filled me again. But I would have him, he was now mine in every way, and I wanted nothing more on earth. He claimed my body with utter sweetness and moved slowly, drawing out with deliberate strokes before gliding back within, as we kissed without end. When he shuddered in release and then fell still, tears of joy for everything we had found together trickled over my temples. He licked them away, before kissing me one last time. And then we slept.

- 10 -

Probably we should
get up,” I said much later that day, though everything within me rebelled against the thought of leaving our warm cocoon. We were both naked as the days we'd been born, sprawled together on the bedding. So far neither Boyd nor Malcolm had returned to camp; Sawyer explained that they were hunting, allowing us the remarkable privilege of a brief honeymoon.

“You will stay right here with me,” he ordered, his eyes glinting with warm teasing, yet imploring me at the same time. He confessed, “There's a part of me that's terrified this will all be a beautiful dream. I'll wake up and then I'll die from longing to get back to the same dream.”

I rolled atop him, my hair spilling all over us, and regarded his dear, handsome face. He lounged on his back, both pillows and one forearm braced beneath his head. His eyelids were at half-mast, content and lazy, and he looked so good that perhaps he was being conjured by my fancy. Between us there existed an ever-increasing sense of wonder—a discovery of one another on levels previously unimaginable to either of us. The strength of our loving, the joy that surged so freely between us, only served to heighten this awareness, this intimate intensity and keen-edged delight, born of the knowledge that we were now allowed to touch and join with no inhibitions, with no restrictions. And, oh—how we had joined. The magnitude of our joy cast aside all worries, all fears—at least for this day.

Much better than any dream
, I told him with my eyes.

He grinned and slipped a warm hand around my backside, adding, “It's very realistic, I'll concede that.”

“Sawyer James,” I scolded, curving into his touch. I pressed my breasts more firmly to his chest and asked demurely, “Will you kiss my nipples again, please?”

His grip tightened and his grin deepened. He blinked once, and then replied in a voice sweet as clover honey fresh from the comb, “Well, since you said ‘please.'”

I giggled, squirming as he pinned me flat on my back, kissing me just as I'd asked, as softly as though skimming a feather over my flesh. I shivered and moaned, “That tickles.”

In response he bent lower and ran his tongue lightly along my belly, teasing my navel, as I laughed helplessly and twisted beneath him, before moving back to my breasts, opening his lips as my laughter became soft moans.

“Please,” I begged, lifting my hips in adamant invitation. “Please,
please
…”

“That I should make you beg,” he marveled, my fingers buried in his golden hair. He lamented, “I am no gentleman,” stroking softly between my legs.

“
Sawyer
,” I demanded, breathless, and his half-wicked grin, the one to which I had rapidly grown accustomed, ignited fire anew in my soul. He licked a path upwards between my breasts, at last claiming my mouth. I reached down and clutched him none too gently, impaling myself as he groaned against my lips. I rolled him to his back, which he allowed, his hands gliding over my hips as I straddled him, letting my hair surround us in this beautiful world we had created with just us two.

We had made love countless times since last night, but my craving of him, my intense preoccupation with him, saturated me past all reason. There was, within me, an impassioned desire for the absorption of all details relating to him, those large and those seemingly insignificant, each mattering equally to me because I loved him, body and soul.

The shape of his strong hands and long, capable fingers, the pale half-moons at the base of each of his nails, the lines etched into his palms, which I explored by the lantern light, teasing him that I could follow the path of his destiny, there scribed.

The bones that contoured his handsome face, and the way it took on a fierce, almost stern, expression before he spilled over inside me.

The soft, husky sound of his voice, murmuring to me in love, and passionate desire; the caress of my name upon his lips.

The shape of his long nose and firm chin, jaws stubbled with a day's growth of beard.

The arch of his wide shoulders, to which I repeatedly clung, as the hours of the day melted past.

His strong, muscular legs, the curve of his buttocks beneath my grasping hands.

The salty taste of his sweat, licked from his chest and his neck, the texture of his skin beneath my fingertips and tongue, where he was scarred from battle—the rough puckering of a healed musket wound on the outer edge of his left thigh, the imprint of the blades that had once opened his flesh—one upon his lower right ribcage, the other his jaw.

The dark hair that moved in a slim, straight line down the center of his lower belly, the darker hair between his legs, and the musky scent of him there.

The rigid firmness of his cock in my mouth, smooth and yet hard as a buckeye, sleek against my tongue.

The way he cradled me close time and again, whispering, “That's it, darlin', my sweet, sweet darlin',” as I gasped and held fast to him, pelted by sensation, the cresting waves that shuddered over me at his powerful, unceasing motion.

“Don't stop,” I heard myself beg many times, and his answering smile, his assurance that he would never stop.

Much later, the long afternoon sun stretched through the translucent canvas, tinting the interior the mellow shade of old whiskey; we had not eaten a bite all day, sated completely upon our loving. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since we bound our hands. Happiness of such enormity was also a terrifying thing, but I had allowed myself to bathe within it since last night, held it greedily and without let-up to my heart. No matter what happened from here forward, life could not rob me of today.

Tomorrow I could not control.

Oh dear God
…

A snagging in my heart, a clenching in my gut—surely I was imagining the sense of time running out that chose to beat at my thoughts just now. Sawyer slept on his back, snoring lightly, but at the sound of my distress he turned to me, eyes still closed, bringing me closer. I was afraid, after all of our easy teasing and laughter, the intensity of our repeated lovemaking, that I was about to cry. He stroked my hair as I'd seen him stroke Whistler's hide; he was a man who loved with complete devotion, with his whole heart.

He thought,
I am here. We are safe, and I am here.

“Sawyer,” I whispered, words fleeing like frightened birds from my lips as I tried to explain, “I want us to stay here, and I know we cannot.” Because the time would come creeping, all too soon, when we would be forced to leave this space, bid farewell to these beautiful first hours we had existed as man and wife, and move forward into the unknown. My breath came faster, in short, erratic gasps. My heart seemed to want to hurl itself free of my body.

“It's all right,” he soothed, encasing me even more securely into his arms. He said quietly, “I know,
mo mhuirnín milis
, I know.”

“I cannot bear to be apart from you. Even the thought is beyond bearing. Please never leave me alone. Never leave me alone, Sawyer.” I knew it was unfair to speak this way, when he had as much control over life as did I, but my words rushed out in panicked and passionate bursts; I was unable to stop them.

“Lorie,” he said firmly. He drew back and said with quiet resolve, “Look at my eyes, darlin', look at me.” I obeyed, and his gaze was somber upon mine as he said, “I will do everything in my power to keep us safe. I will never leave you. You know this.”

At his words, the roiling waters of panic at last subsided, ebbing back to a place where I could control them, refusing to consider the many horrible ways in which life could rip us apart.

“You are overtired,” he acknowledged, tenderly kissing my cheek. “Your eyes are shadowed. You sleep, my sweet love, and I'll get us something to eat.”

He lifted my chin and kissed my lips, before tucking the blanket about me. His touch lingered upon my jaw, and I managed a smile.

“I'll be back directly,” he said, rising and stretching, his powerful naked body such a sight to behold in the sunset light. I went up on my elbow to admire him, and he winked at me as he donned his trousers and ducked outside. I heard Whistler nickering at him in welcome, and his affectionate, teasing response, “Did you wonder where we were all day, my girl?”

I pictured him petting her face and kissing her nose, and with those comforting thoughts in mind, I slept.

* * *

When next I woke the night was deep and our campfire burned outside with a cheerful crackle. I was naked, tucked neatly into the blankets. I sat and ran my fingers along the heavy length of my hair, rife with snarls. I could hear Boyd and Malcolm chattering with Sawyer, and my heart swelled with gladness.

“Lorie-love, we're out here,” Sawyer called, as he surely heard me rustling around.

“Thank you for filling the basin,” I returned, noticing the reflected gleam of the fire's glow upon the fresh water within it, an arm's length from the bed.

“Heya, Lorie-Lorie!” Malcolm called exuberantly. The boy went on, “Boyd said you an' Sawyer'd be tuckered out after last night, so's—” Malcolm's words were interrupted by the sounds of scuffling and his issuing of a squeak, and then Boyd uttered, “
Jesus Christ
, boy!”

I smothered my laughter.

Sawyer ducked inside, retying the entrance and squatting at the foot of the bed in the dimness of the firelight filtering through the canvas, smiling at me in the way he had that set my heart to throbbing rather than simply beating. His voice was even more throaty than usual as he said tenderly, “I love how you look, all warm and tumbled from sleeping. Are you hungry, my wife?”

I kicked free of the covers and moved swiftly into his arms, where he caught me close, laughing a little. My arms laced around him, my breasts flattened against the muslin of his shirt. He smelled of the fire and of roasting meat, his hair loose down his back. I whispered into his ear, “Just for you.”

He rocked me side to side and kissed my neck, whispering, “I must be in a dream. And I must be the most selfish bastard who ever lived, to keep taking advantage of the gift of you this way.”

I murmured in his ear, “I won't hear any such nonsense. You are anything but selfish and unless you mean to fight me away from you –”

In response, he kissed me quite absolutely. He whispered, “All evening, while you slept, your scent was upon my skin, I could very nearly taste you, and I love it so. I had not thought it possible to need you more than I already do.” His thumbs stroked my lips, my cheekbones. He clasped my right hand and brought it to his thrusting heart.

I pulled him immediately closer, thrilling to his words, working to open the fastening on his trousers. He shivered and sank his fingers into my hair, tipping me into his kiss. I tugged the shirt over his arms, caressing the ridges of muscle there, and those across his chest.

“Hurry,” I begged in a whisper, as he quickly freed himself from the last of his clothing. I added, “I'll be quiet, I promise.”

He laughed at that, lavishing my neck with kisses as his hand moved swiftly downward over my belly. He whispered, “I'll try to promise the same.”

I curled my fingers around his length and he groaned, taking me instantly to the bedding, studying my face as he held himself poised above, just at the point of entry. I urged insistently closer, lifting my hips, and he groaned a second time, prompting my hushed giggles. He grinned and gently took my chin between his teeth, linking our fingers as he joined our bodies, sliding at once deeply within; my subsequent moans were caught between us and again we were so willingly lost to the rest of the world, wrapped in each other.

* * *

“Lorissa Davis, that has a fine ring to it,” Boyd said later, as the four of us sat around the fire feasting on delicious venison, roasted to a perfect crackling turn. “Sounds right nice.”

I smiled at his words, my mouth too full to respond. In all my life, food had never tasted better than this night's.

Sawyer leaned and kissed my cheek, agreeing, “It does, at that.”

“Lorie, did you love all of your surprises, did you?” Malcolm demanded, his lips decorated with bits of char; one of his teeth was also inadvertently blackened, giving him a comical appearance, and I grinned, with complete love, as he went on lauding his work, “I lit all the lanterns, an' picked the flowers, an' decorated Whistler-girl.”

“I loved every bit, it was all so wonderful,” I told him. “You are surely the sweetest boy who ever lived.”

Boyd made a
tut-tut
sound of disapproval, raising his eyebrows at me and indicating himself with one thumb.

“And you as well,” I told him, smiling.

Malcolm explained, “We stayed away all night an' all day as so the two of you could –”

Boyd yelped, “Boy!” and leaned to kick at Malcolm's ankle. Malcolm giggled and kicked back at his brother. Boyd rolled his eyes at us and said, “I understand now why Daddy was so damn hesitant to talk to us boys about…certain things. Christ, I recall he took Beau an' me aside an' stumbled over an explanation that had more to do with horses…” and he snorted a laugh before finishing, “Horses mating.”

We were all laughing then. Enjoying our amusement, Boyd went on, with relish, “Here was me an' Beau, thinking of all the times we'd watched the horses being bred, an' the impressive an' sobering size of a horse's pecker—beg pardon, Lorie—both of us imagining all manner of indecent things. Then Daddy threw us into another tizzy when he said somethin' about making sure that a woman was…” He was almost laughing too hard to continue, but he managed, saying, “About making sure a woman was pleasured during lovemaking, as well.”

“I can just see him,” Sawyer said; he agreed, “
And
sound advice.”

Boyd continued, “Beau whispered to me, ‘But we ain't
near
the size,' an' then we figured we'd never be able to bring a woman pleasure.”