Quicksilver Passion (113 page)

Oh, now! Yes, now!”

He penetrated her very slowly so that she seemed to feel him pulsating as he came into her. It was too slow for her eager body, and she found herself rising up off the bed to meet him, aching for him to fill the void.

That’s it Silver. Wrap your legs around me.”

She was his to command and they coupled together like one living being, her thighs locking him into her, his hard maleness throbbing hot and deep within her until she felt him moan and begin to surge. It was almost as if she could feel the hot, rich life fluid of him erupting within her womb. They were both wet with perspiration, writhing and bucking on the bed, his tongue deep in her throat, her nails clawing his back bloody. If he wanted to escape the sucking pull of her body, he could not because she locked him to her with her legs and she was instinctively refusing to release him until his body gave her what she wanted.

When he came deep within her, her own body met the challenge, riding a crescendo of feeling as it tried to squeeze him in her depths, not letting him escape until he’d given up the seed her womb craved.

Then she collapsed in his arms in sobbing surrender while he held her and kissed the tears from her eyes. Now that she had been awakened to love, her body was greedy for it, and he made love to her all night long until they were both exhausted.

Oh, Cherokee
...
Cherokee
...

She blinked awake and realized that she still hugged her pillow in her lonely room at the Duchess’ Palace and he was only a ghost of her memory.

Weeks passed one into another. Winter came with all its snow and holidays. Silver was the one who made sure there was a Christmas tree and gifts for Waanibe. The Christmas tree was a new holiday decoration that was just coming into vogue the last few years in America, thanks to Queen Victoria of England. Her beloved husband, Albert, was German. He had brought Germany’s favorite Christmas custom with him when he married her. Americans had a habit of imitating anything English royalty did, so gradually, Silver heard, the decorated tree was spreading across the country, along with the reading of
A Visit from St. Nicholas
, which had been written more than forty years ago.

The Duchess was too busy with the booming business of the Palace and the gold in her safe. Many times when Silver came to her office, the dark beauty sat with the safe open as if simply staring at the piled-up treasure gave her satisfaction.

She also had Silver’s cherished gold bracelet. Silver saved her salary to redeem it, but the day before she intended to do so, the Duchess showed up wearing it.

Isn’t it pretty?” She smiled, holding up her arm so the light glinted off it.
Someone never returned for it.”

At that point, Silver almost told the Duchess it was hers, then decided against it. She couldn’t prove ownership, and the Duchess would ask questions. Besides, why should Silver want to be reminded of a man who had talked his way into her bed one time and then discarded her while he went off to war? Not that the Duchess would give it up anyway; the woman liked it too much.

It was spring now, early April ’62. In a few more days, it would have been a year since Cherokee made love to her and then went off to war. Silver was happy enough, she thought as she went about her duties mechanically. Little Waanibe loved and needed her and she loved and needed the child. Certainly Waanibe was too young to be sent off to school, and besides, with the war still raging, that was impossible.

But that night, she dreamed about Cherokee. He was in some kind of trouble and calling her name.

Cherokee?” She sat bolt upright in bed and then she sighed with relief as she realized what had awakened her was only a dream. It was late at night—so late that even the saloon downstairs was quiet at this hour.

Cherokee
. She sighed and lay back down. Of course there was always a chance he’d been killed in the war, but somehow they had seemed so attuned that Silver thought she would know the exact moment he died, even if it were a thousand miles from here.

No, he had simply enjoyed her body and, after the sample, had deserted her the way men were so wont to do women. He hadn’t even written her. She would like to think that maybe the mail wasn’t coming through, but after almost a year, she had to face the fact that he probably hadn’t bothered to write, would never bother to write.

Maybe he didn’t care about her but she still loved him. For a long moment, she thought about the Duchess. In some ways, they were alike—each awaiting a beloved man who didn’t care about her. Except the Duchess had a child by hers. Did that make her luckier or uhluckier than Silver?

And what had awakened her? Silver lay back down, but she couldn’t sleep. Somehow, she thought, wherever Cherokee is, he’s in terrible trouble and there’s nothing I can do about it!

Early April 1862,
near Shiloh, Tennessee.

Cherokee flattened himself against the ground and listened to the shells exploding around him in the darkness.
He was going to die here
, he thought.
He and Shawn and Dowdy and the others of this patrol
.

They had been out scouting the terrain and stumbled into a Yankee offensive that was just beginning. All around them, shells exploded and men screamed as they were torn in half. Cherokee hugged the dirt and thought about Silver. He hadn’t wanted to die without seeing her again. Loving her had made all this misery and death worth getting through, even if she didn’t care about him. He could daydream about what might have been.

He realized then that he had his fist tightly clenched and he opened it slowly, staring at it in the moonlight.
Here’s a treasure
...
put it in your pocket and take it out when you need it
.

Oh, sweet darlin’, with your quicksilver laughter, I need it now just as I need you so. He held the palm of his hand against his unshaven cheek, almost seeming to feel her lips on his face, the warm passion of her beneath him the one night he had made love to her. He hoped he had given her a baby. Selfish of him maybe, but no man wants to die without leaving some trace of himself in this world.

Shawn shouted from his other side.
I’ve got to get back and tell the colonel that the Yankees are massing here for a big push!”

Cherokee looked around the shadowy orchard where they lay. Peaches and apples and cherry trees were in bloom; the scent of those blossoms seemed to mock them. Spring. New life budding, but for the men around him, it would undoubtedly be the season of death.

Shawn shouted again.
Did you hear me, Cherokee?”

Cherokee nodded.
Maybe me and a couple of the others can hold out until the rest of the patrol gets away!”

I can’t ask you to do that, lad. The ones who stay behind are sure to get killed or captured!”

Go on,” Cherokee urged.
I’ll keep Pettigrew and Wilson.”

Shawn paused.
Wilson’s a good man, but Petty may turn tail and run if it gets bad enough!”

I’ll manage,” Cherokee said.
You’ll need the others later. You’ll take Dowdy?”

Shawn nodded.
Aye, if anyone can get through, it’s the blacksmith.” He paused, shells screaming around them like deadly fireworks. The acrid scent of burning powder made him cough.
Cherokee, lad, I’ve never told you how much your friendship means to me. You’re not much older than the son I might have had if my first love . . .”

Cherokee waited for him to continue, then realized he wouldn’t.
Aw, don’t get maudlin on me now,” Cherokee said, and made a dismissing gesture,
there’s no time. Besides, Shawn, I owe you. That’s the reason I came back. We’re friends—
tso-ga-li-i
.” He said it in his Indian language without thinking.