Seneca Surrender (22 page)
And then it was done. She was fully exposed. She lay before him in nothing more than the manner in which she had come into this world. However, there between her legs, White Thunder’s fingers were still loving her, even more urgently than before. Momentarily, he rose up over her so that he could gaze at her in full. Her legs were spread, his hand was upon her and still it seemed he couldn’t get enough of her.
At last, he whispered, “Your beauty should be the subject of art.”
Even as he said it, his touch was stroking her, encouraging her to raise up to heights that, prior to this, she had only imagined. Indeed, she couldn’t lie still. She was wet, wild with desire, and she cried out, “Please make love to me. I can hardly wait another moment.”
His first response was to groan. Then he said, “I would be pleasured, Miss Sarah. Deeply pleasured.”
He laid himself beside her, next to her, and his fingers were creating so great a stir within her that she thought she might burst. As he watched her, his groans grew more labored.
She was more than aware that she was struggling toward that ultra-fine release, and as feeling took over thinking, such joy crescendoed within her, she could hardly hold back the pleasure. Indeed, that pleasure was coming in on her so fast and furious that when the rapture burst within her, an exquisite kind of euphoria flooded her system, literally rocking her physically. It needed outlet, and as she cried out, he echoed her with a moan of his own. She gazed up at him, finding him watching her, looking at her as though he were witnessing grace in motion.
When she at last had settled down, he whispered, “I have great feeling for you, Miss Sarah. All the days of my life, I will remember this moment. This, I promise you.”
She smiled at him, and reached up to grab hold of a lock of his hair, flicking the long strand behind his shoulders. Then he brought himself up over her, and without delay, joined their bodies together.
Briefly, she remembered that the first time she had made love with him, there had been pain, then. She expected it now.
But it didn’t materialize. Not this time. At present, there was nothing but enchantment. She welcomed him, fully, completely.
They began to move as one. One thrust from him followed another, her bliss heightening as she tightened her muscles around him. When he pushed against her, she met him. When he withdrew, so, too, did she.
It was an erotic sort of dance. On and on they swayed as they drew closer and closer together. But it seemed as if it wasn’t close enough … at least not for him.
Breaking away from her, for a moment he came up onto his knees before her. Taking hold of her legs, he placed them around his neck. At once Sarah found the position most erotic, sensuous, and utterly stimulating. In this position, she was able to gaze up into his dark, almost black eyes.
She smiled at him, and it seemed her simple action was his undoing. In response, he thrust again and again within her.
As their bodies came together in the act of love, so, too, did she meet him on a different plane. She held that look in his eyes, she wanted that look, even as the dance between them became fast, then faster.
Never, she thought, had she ever seen a man so magnificent. His groans were pure music to her ears, inspiring her, bringing her up again so that she was spiraling up to that same pinnacle she’d met earlier. Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, until finally with one last cherished thrust, he gifted her with his seed. And she met him all the way. When he burst, so, too, did she.
And not once during the entire deed, had they dropped their heated gaze from one another. It was as though she’d been presented with a glimpse into his soul. Perhaps, he, too, had glimpsed her soul. But it little mattered; for a moment, if a moment only, she knew exactly who he was.
Moreover, he was spectacular.
As he collapsed against her, she rubbed her hands up and down his spine, savoring the feel of his hard muscles against the cushion of her touch. And despite all the logical reasons why she shouldn’t, she knew she would never be the same again.
She had changed. Never again would she look at the world in the same way. This man was hers.
Fifteen
Days passed. Days that were filled with lovemaking, with mounting respect for one another and with the pleasure of becoming even better acquainted.
Of course, there was always work to be done, too. White Thunder instructed Sarah in the best ways to prepare a food made especially for travel. It was a dry meat pounded into a powdery substance and spiced with fat and berries. Apparently a handful of this mixture could sustain a warrior throughout an entire day.
They made plenty of it. They made plenty of love, too. Indeed, so idyllic were their days, Sarah began to wonder if it were possible to remain here in this cave for her life through. To her, it had become home.
Meanwhile, the weather outside the cave had turned cold. But it hardly mattered. Inside their little haven, Sarah and White Thunder were scarcely aware of the change in temperature. They seldom ventured far from the cave. There simply was no need.
There was only one problem, and that was due to their activities. Sarah had become sore, and in the worst of all places. However, once she had made White Thunder aware of the difficulty she was having, he had treated her to mud and clay baths, administered lovingly by him. Amazingly, the pain went away.
Days turned into a week, then another. And though White Thunder’s strength had returned—as had Sarah’s—still they lingered—with good reason.
Here they were spared the wagging tongues of spiteful gossips, the damning looks from prejudiced eyes, the scornful opinions of others as were bound to occur were they to return to society. Here they were free, they were married, at least within their own eyes … for a time.
But as the days plodded forward, Sarah’s worry about Marisa increased. What had happened to her? Would the young warrior who was so smitten with her protect her from harm? She assumed that he would do most anything to keep his love safe.
But what if Marisa needed her? What if there were problems, and she had no one to turn to?
And so Sarah came to understand that the time had at last come to leave.
She and White Thunder were cuddled up in front of the fire when White Thunder said, “Are you prepared to go?”
“I think so, but do we have to?”
“You know we do,” he said. “You have mentioned on more than one occasion that you worry about your friend. And I have a duty to perform, which cannot be accomplished here.”
Sarah shot him a sad smile. “Surely,” she said, “there must be something else we need to do to ready us to go. Is there anything we missed?”
He smiled at her before he bent to rub the side of his face against hers. He said, “We have smoked and dried all the meat, pounded it into meal and mixed it with berries and fat. We have packed it in bags. We have no more food here to prepare. It is all stored in the bags we will carry.”
“Yes, but you could hunt for more food and we could prepare that.”
“I could, but it is unnecessary. We have all the food we will need.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded as disappointed as she felt. “But, sir, ’tis cold. Don’t we need warmer clothing?”
“What we have will be enough. We have already made two warm shirts and extra moccasins for us both from the deer kill. It will be enough.”
“Then how about the root that is needed to keep me from conceiving?”
“I have dried much of it. It, too, is packed.”
“Yes, that’s true,” she said. Then again, “Yes.”
“If we linger here too long,” he declared, “the snows will come and we will have much difficulty finding your friend.”
Sarah frowned. “Do you think we’ll encounter trouble?”
“I little know. I have seen enemy tracks in my travels to find food. War rages across this land, making traveling, even upon the lakes and rivers, dangerous. I have given it much thought, and I think we will do best to make our path through the forest. Although an enemy can hide there easily, so, too, can we.”
Sarah turned to stare at him grimly. “Now that you speak of it, I remember this war. I recall that the whole world seemed afire.”
“And so it has been since the English and others have come to our borders. It has been a series of one war after another. Once, many years ago, the Iroquois were at peace with themselves and with their neighbors.”
“I have heard that this was so. Tell me about it.”
“In the long-ago time,” he replied, “hundreds of years before the white man ever arrived on this land, there was the Great Peace. It was started by two men and a woman, who took the idea of ending war from tribe to tribe. It was not easy to do, for not everyone desired harmony, and some were great, but evil magicians. However, eventually these three accomplished it, and they united six heroic nations together under one branch, and offered to bring all other Indian nations under its branches. It was what united the Iroquois. It is this that has made us strong.”
“And you have a government, I believe. Is that not right? ”
“We do, but it is not like the English, who are subject to a king. Our towns are ruled by the people, and he who has power, but who would govern for himself and his family, alone, is quickly warned, and if he still doesn’t behave, he is removed from the council.”
“Fascinating. And there is no confusion?”
“Confusion? Not about government or who we are or how we make our laws. We council together, and when all agree to a law or to a suggestion, only then is it passed by the council. But even then, if the people don’t like it, they don’t have to follow it. One is always left to make up his own mind.”
“And this unites you? It doesn’t pull you apart?”
“It unites us, yes.”
Both were silent, until at last, Sarah asked, “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“’Tis quite soon.”
He nodded.
“I will miss it here. I’ve been happy, and I’ve even started to think of this cave as mine.”
“I, too.”
“But I suppose we can’t stay here forever.”
“So it is. We both have duties that weigh upon us.”
“Aye,” she said. Then, “I’ve had you to myself for all these days and I have become used to thinking of you as my husband. But when we leave here, that’s all behind us, is it not?”
“That was our agreement, yes,” he said. “It will soon be at an end. However, we still have tonight. For a little while longer, let us pretend that we are a married couple, with no other responsibilities except to bring pleasure to one another.”
She nodded. “I would like that.”
He sighed and tightened his arms around her. “On this night, I would like to think of nothing but the many different ways to love you.”
“Yes, Mr. Thunder, please.” She smiled at him, but she feared that at present, even her smile reflected her loss. However, when she spoke, she didn’t speak of sadness. Rather, she said, “Let us make beautiful memories.”
He, too, seemed grim, but as he turned her around toward him and proceeded to do as she suggested, their lovemaking transformed them both. Once again, there was only him. There was only her.
The extreme darkness before dawn ushered in a new day. They had made love through the night, as though only in this way could they keep the morning from coming. But here it was already. She was tired. He was tired, also, but White Thunder had already assured her that they would rest throughout their journey.
Amazingly, she wasn’t sleepy. Just tired.
They had swept away all traces of their stay in the cave—a necessary procedure, according to White Thunder, so that their time here might be invisible to the eye of anyone who should be looking for them. He had recently stepped from the cave to say his morning prayers while Sarah had stayed behind to attend to her toiletries.
She was settling her open gown over her petticoats and straightening its bodice when White Thunder came back into the cave. He stopped almost perfectly still when he saw her, and he stared at her as though he had never seen her until this moment.
“You are ready?” he asked, but he said nothing more to her.
“Almost,” she replied. It was the first time she had worn her gown since before she’d awakened to find herself in a cave and in the presence of a man she didn’t remember.
The gown had once been one of her best. But traveling over open ground and practically drowning in it had done irreparable damage.
Long ago, however, it had been beautiful, made of a rich, gold-colored silk brocade. Her petticoats were a quilted cream color, almost matching the gold of the dress, and as was the fashion, they were displayed in front of the gown. Somewhere in her adventures, however, she had lost her white muslin apron, although her white neck handkerchief had survived. She wore it now, covering her chest, up to her neck.
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