White Owl (9 page)

As they faced each other again, White Owl reminded himself that white men only married one woman at a time. But he still thought it was rather humorous that she was so shocked by the Ute custom. “If it pleases us,” he said. The color that rose up in her cheeks was deep red. It made her blue eyes look even more brilliant.

“But I intend to take only one wife,” White Owl added quickly. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she didn’t believe him. “Your turn, Wild Rose. Do you have a suitor?”

Her blush deepened. “Me? Oh, no! I mean, who—” She met his gaze and looked down at the ground. Her hands twisted at the material of her skirt.

The smile on White Owl’s lips widened. He was certain that she was thinking the same thoughts he was—she definitely had a suitor now—if she wanted one. Neither of them could deny there was something special between them, and he was certain it was much more powerful than anything either of them had ever experienced.

He reached out and picked up one of her hands
that was fidgeting in the folds of her skirt. “My turn again.”

She did not look up at him, nor did she make any effort to pull her hand away. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Would you consider having an Indian as a suitor?”

White Owl saw the heavy lump that she swallowed in her throat. She was wearing the shimmering gold heart necklace again today, and it accented the movement in her neck. She looked up at him now. “If I was the only woman he wanted.”

Something hit White Owl in the thigh. He blinked and glanced down at the ground beside his leg. It took him a second to realize what it was, and his reaction was delayed because of the shock that rendered him speechless for a moment. He had no idea when she had picked up the small rock—barely more than a pebble—but her meaning was clear.

He studied her smiling face for only an instant more. There was no doubt in her eyes or anywhere else on her beautiful face. He leaned forward to seek those sweet-tasting lips again. She met him halfway.

They both rose to their knees, so they easily fit together as their lips sought to feed their desperate hunger. White Owl’s kisses were more demanding than ever before. The direction they were headed had become vividly clear, and he wasn’t planning to waste any more precious time. He had known since that very first day, and apparently,
she had, too. It had just taken her a bit longer to figure it out.

White Owl’s hand moved to the back of her head; his fingers became lost in the tangles of her long curls. He pressed his body tighter against hers as his mouth opened to push his tongue between her lips. For just an instant she seemed to hesitate before her lips separated and allowed his tongue to taste the sweetness of her moist mouth. Almost instantly, her tongue began a taunting dance with his, and if possible, their kisses became even more ardent.

White Owl slowly lowered her to the ground. Beneath them the summer grass was full and soft. They lay on their sides as they continued to kiss. With his free hand, White Owl let his fingers trail over her breast and down along her waist and the curve of her hip. She trembled beneath his touch.

He thought to pull back, to ask her if she was really sure this time, but she did not give his thoughts a chance to become vocal. There was no holding back for either of them now.

Rose felt him start to pull away, but she could not imagine any distance between them at this moment. The consequences of her actions tried to invade her thoughts. But her mind was overruled by her wanton body and her yearning heart. She had no doubt now that her obsession with the Ute horse races was merely the prelude to her real destination, which was to be with this man for the rest of her life, and she was eager to begin this new life.

In an effort to control her raging emotions, Rose tried to recall the things her mother had told her about being with a man for the first time. What had she said? It was something like, don’t think of the pain, it will hurt less as time goes on. Remembering that did not help, so she tried to concentrate on the incredible sensations racing through her body. Before she even realized what was happening, White Owl had the hem of her full skirt hiked up to her hips and her pantaloons pushed up out of the way, and he was rubbing his hand the entire length of her thigh. The feel of his hand on her bare skin was a wonderfully heady sensation.

Rose imitated White Owl’s movements. Since
he was wearing only a suede breechcloth it was easy to touch his bare skin. Beneath her tentative fingertips, his muscled thigh felt hard and smooth. She was distracted by the realization that he was fiddling with the buttons at the back of her dress. How could his hands be in so many places at once?

She clenched her teeth together to keep from crying out when she became aware of his rock-hard manhood moving into position between her legs. All of his movements, the demanding kisses, the heated touches, everything, came to an abrupt halt.

“You have changed your mind.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Oh no!” she gasped. “No, please, don’t stop.” She grabbed his head with one hand and pulled his face to hers, responding with a kiss that she hoped conveyed the intensity of her feelings.

A deep moan escaped from him as he ripped the buttons off the back of her dress with one swift motion. In a tangle of flowered material he pulled the dress and her camisole away from her body and flung them into the grass.

He had rolled her on to her back and she was vitally aware that the only thing that separated his engorged manhood from her virginity was the thin barrier of her pantaloons. In her wildest imaginings she had never even suspected that a woman was capable of having such uncontrollable desires. She throbbed and burned with such intense feelings that she could only arch her body upward and pray for release.

White Owl ignored her immediate demands and focused on letting his fevered mouth assault her breasts. His tongue teased and his lips nipped gently on the taut nipples that had instantly responded to his touch. Rose tilted her head back into the soft grass and drew in a shaky breath. This was torture . . . pure, wondrous, fabulous torture!

His lips moved up to her exposed neck and began to bestow more kisses on the soft skin below her chin and around her ears. Her hardened nipples pressed against his muscled chest as he lowered his full weight upon her. His lips continued to move up past her chin and settled on her lips again, while his hand tugged on the waistband of her pantaloons. Rose helped him out by lifting her hips, and in a joint effort, the flimsy barrier joined the dress and camisole somewhere in the deep grass. With one easy movement, White Owl’s breechcloth was tossed away, and there was nothing left to separate their fervent bodies.

Rose braced herself for the pain her mother had warned her about. Thinking of her mother at this instant seemed immoral somehow, so Rose quickly concentrated on the way his lips were seeking hers again. One of his hands had worked its way between her legs, and the tips of his fingers were tenderly rubbing her in way that made her want to scream with delicious pleasure.

Her body arched upward as his mouth covered hers, and before she realized it, he was entering her, stealing away her pained cry with a forceful kiss.

The stabbing pain was brief but intense, and she braced herself for more pain when he began to move slowly within her. To her surprise and delight, the pain faded and in its place were a hundred different magical sensations that continued to build until there was a feeling that she could not even begin to comprehend, and it overpowered everything she had ever known in her existence up to this moment.

“I am sorry about your dress,” White Owl said in a tone that did not sound all that regretful. He was trying to figure out how to make it stay together, but only two buttons had been left intact, and there was no way to fasten the dress back together. Her delicate camisole was far beyond repair. Rose figured these were just small problems compared to the one she would have once she returned home. The unbridled passion, though hardly gone, was now invaded by the nagging fear and reality.

She had been gone for hours, and it would probably be dark before she reached home. Nothing she could say would pacify her father’s rage. She didn’t want White Owl to sense her anxiety, though, so she tried to pretend to be calm.

“Maybe I can find a jacket or something in the barn when I get home and no one will notice,” Rose said.

“You’re worried about your father,” White Owl stated.

Rose turned away from him as she slipped into her pantaloons and pulled them up under her dress.
She felt a heated flame in her face and thought how silly it was to feel shy now. Just as she was trying to concentrate on all the incredible things they had just done and not think about her father, she realized White Owl was suddenly behind her, and then turning her around to face him again. Her gaze was instantly drawn to his face. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

“I cannot bear the thought of you suffering,” he said as his fingers traced along the line of her jaw. “Don’t go back. Stay with me.”

His words, though completely unfeasible, meant more than Rose could even begin to tell him. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to stay with him forever. “I have to go home,” she said sadly.

She saw the crushing look filter through his handsome face and wished she could be in two places at once. “I will tell my family about us.” Doubt clouded his eyes. “I will. Somehow, I will find a way. And then I’ll come back, and I’ll never leave again.”

His fingers continued to gently rub the side of her face. “It is not that easy, my Wild Rose.”

The sadness in his voice and his sorrowful expression made a strange sense of foreboding grip Rose. She drew in a shaky breath. “I will be back,” she said in a forceful tone. Why was he acting as if this was their last moments together?

“I will ride with you for a while,” he said as he pulled his hand away from her face. “We should hurry before your father comes looking for you.”

Rose nodded feebly and headed toward Molly. Before she could swing herself onto the mare’s back, his strong hands had grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up to the back of her horse. She leaned back down and kissed him without hesitation. Her long hair engulfed them both. Their lips lingered together for a moment after the kiss ended.

They rode side by side in silence until they reached the trail along Milk Creek, where she crossed over into her parents’ land. The sun was starting to set in the western sky. Rose felt like something inside her was about to explode. They had just shared the most extraordinary experience a man and a woman could share, and yet they could not find anything to talk about now. Did he already regret what had happened?

“This is as far as I go,” he said, breaking in on her worried thoughts.

Rose couldn’t stand it one second longer. His lack of communication for the long distance that they had ridden together had fueled her imagination, as she spat, “I guess I didn’t pass the test, so now you can just move on to the next willing girl until you find one that you like. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

“What are you saying?” He was off his horse now and pulling her down from Molly’s back.

Rose attempted to get away, but his grip on her arms was almost painful and she could not move. His sudden movement did not frighten her, but
the anger it caused rushed through her like hot lava. “That is how it works, isn’t it?” she repeated through gritted teeth.

She glared up at him, waiting to hear his excuses and expecting to see this truth on his face. Instead, his dark features were contorted in pain.

“I have no intention of being with another woman after today,” he replied.

Rose peered into his ebony gaze, but she could not read his thoughts. “Then why are you acting so strange?”

He released his hold on her and hung his head down in a defeated manner. “I worry because—” He paused and shook his head as he looked back up. “I care too much. I have already broken the promise I made to myself and to my father.”

Confusion spun through Rose’s mind. “What promise?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “That I would not do something that would make things worse between my people and the whites.”

Rose stepped back, but Molly prevented her from going any farther. “Then you do regret what happened today,” she said in a raspy voice. Her heart felt as if it was shattering into thousands of pieces.

A crooked smile touched his lips. “Wild Rose, I have never regretted anything less in my life than making love to you today. But I can’t help worrying that falling in love with you will be the worst thing that could happen to you—and to our families.”

“What?” Rose whispered. Her heart skipped a beat. “Did you just say l-love?”

He chuckled. “Love,” he repeated. “I know enough to be certain what that word means in your language.”

Rose smiled as their gazes locked. “Yes, and it also means that we will find a way to be together—no matter what it takes.”

“I love you, Wild Rose,” White Owl said hoarsely before he stole away her breath with another intoxicating kiss.