Song Of The Warrior (11 page)

Abruptly, she stared up into his face, horrified at what she had done. “I-I—”

“It is my fault, I should not have come inside without the reverend here,” Bear murmured and reached to pull her arms from around his neck, but when his hands touched her arms, all he did was stand there, staring down into her eyes.

She knew she should step back, make some abject apology, escort him out, yet all she could think of was how warm and powerful his body felt against hers and how big his hands were on her arms. Regretfully, she started to move away from him, but his hands held onto her arms and she could see the inner struggle in his dark eyes.

“You don't realize what you do to me,” he whispered. Abruptly, he jerked her to him, bent his head and kissed her, his hands sliding down her arms to grasp her shoulders, hold her tightly against him. She knew she should protest, pull away, but the strength of the man, the way he was kissing her made her so weak, her legs seemed to be buckling. She murmured and it might have been either protest or permission; she wasn't sure herself as his arms went around her back and his mouth grew bolder.

Then the kiss deepened and she forgot propriety and everything else except the way his hot mouth claimed hers as his strong arms held her captive. He seemed to be demanding surrender and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Willow clung to him, pressing her breasts against his muscular chest, running the tip of her tongue across his lips.

Her encouragement made him even bolder as his strength dominated her. He ravaged her mouth, plunging his tongue deep between her lips as they blended together a long, long moment.

Her heart pounded in a way she hadn't thought possible, and she could feel his racing, too. She had never experienced anything like this before, nor expected that she ever would again. No wonder the preachers all lambasted passion; it was the most heady, overpowering, intoxicating emotion she had ever felt.

Bear seemed to be struggling with his own feelings. Finally he pulled away, took a deep breath, reached to unclasp her arms from around his sinewy neck. “I must be mad, or at least without honor, to do this thing—!”

“No!” Willow protested, breathing hard. “You have done the honorable thing, spoken for Raven. But I don't want Raven; I-I want to be your woman!”

He looked down into her face as if he could not believe her, shaking his head slowly. “No, you are young, foolish. Any girl would prefer Raven; he's handsome, he's—”

“He isn't you and I won't marry him, no matter what. I'd almost rather have that silly lieutenant!” Her own words surprised her. Willow knew her breasts rose and fell in the sheer nightdress as she gasped for breath. He stared at them, his inner turmoil burning in his eyes. How could she be so bold and reckless? It was unthinkable that she should be standing here half naked, saying such things to a man; especially this virile savage. Yet she heard her own voice whispering, “Don't-don't go.”

“Green Eyes, you are too innocent to know what might happen if I stay.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She was playing with fire like a small child; suspecting the danger, but too fascinated by the flames to back away while there was still time. Her own being seemed consumed by heat and she couldn't control her words. “Don't go,” she asked again.

With a muttered curse, he turned and swept her into his embrace, holding her close against his powerful body. She knew she couldn't stop him now if she wanted to; and she was horrified to realize she didn't want to at all.

His kisses covered her face as he pressed her hard against him, his big hands moving up and down her slender back; the heat of them seemed to blaze through the sheer fabric. With a woman's wiles that she did not know she knew, wiles as ancient as Eve, she pressed herself against him, kissing him deeply, encouraged by the male hardness of him brushing against her, knowing he could feel the swell of her nipples against his chest and she pressed against him all the way down their bodies. He tangled his fingers in her long hair, holding her face up to his as he ravaged her mouth.

Willow ran her hands around the open neck of his buckskin shirt, marveling at the hard muscle of him, baffled by the ridges and scars she could feel there. In the meantime, he was kissing her deeper and deeper as their passion built, his tongue caressing the interior of her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair.

Her dressing gown had fallen off one of her shoulders and she wore nothing beneath the wrap. He kissed along her neck and then her throat and collarbone. “You smell so good,” he whispered, “like a woman; all woman.”

“Your woman,” she said as the wrap fell down, baring one breast.

With a groan, he lifted her so he could reach that breast, holding her in his arms like a small, precious possession. His mouth hesitated and she arched her back, offering that forbidden delight; that which no man had ever tasted and then she reached up, caught his craggy head between her two hands, pulled him down to the breast she offered. His lips touched her nipple in the most gentle of kisses as if he expected her to pull away. Instead, she pushed her breast into his mouth, wanting to feel his hot tongue touch the nipple's tip and then he sucked it; sucked it hard.

Now it was her turn to writhe in his arms, holding his mouth to her. She felt on fire all over as if she burned with some terrible, fatal fever. “I-I want you,” she whispered. “Take me, please . . . !”

He was shaking in her embrace as he looked down into her eyes. “A place, we need—”

“My bedroom.
Koümize!”
She gestured with her head and without another word, he swung her up, carried her in swift strides through the house, lay her gently on her bed, and stood looking down at her.

“Oh, Willow, it's not too late to stop . . .”

Was it too late to stop? His eyes burned into hers and she knew he awaited some sign from her. She did not think; only felt as she slowly opened her dressing gown so that she lay naked and exposed to his view. She heard his sharp intake of breath and his eyes turned dark with pent-up passion. Without a word, Willow held out her arms to him.

He knelt by the bed, kissing her bare belly, thighs, and breasts. She pulled him onto the bed, reached to touch his maleness. “Teach me,” she whispered. “You're wrong; it is too late to stop, don't even try!”

With her urging, he lost control. He kissed and caressed her wildly, yet tenderly, his big hands surprisingly gentle as he touched her. He hesitated, then reached to take his buckskins off, warning her, “You won't like what you'll see—”

“I think I will.” What was she saying? She had never seen a naked man in her sheltered life.

He hesitated again, then seemingly driven by his need, he pulled his clothes off.

Willow almost gasped at the sight. His body was hard and brown, ropy muscles stood out in ridges. His hips were so small, she could cover them with her two hands. But he was terribly scarred, his back, chest, and neck had ridges of white tissue, long scars as if something horrible had torn at him, almost ripped him apart.

“You're shocked,” he whispered. “It's ugly, I know, I see it in your eyes.”

She could feel him mentally pulling away from her. “So this is how you got your name.”

“Now that you've seen how ugly I look . . .” He was still gasping with passion but reaching for his clothes. “The grizzly almost ate me alive before I killed it; I know the sight of my scarred body—”

“It doesn't matter! I love you,” she whispered, “it doesn't matter.” Willow pulled him to her, began to kiss his scars, the ridged muscles of the claw marks where the great grizzly had shredded his flesh. She could only imagine what courage it had taken to face the huge beast, the agony he must have endured as it attacked him. “I love you anyway,” she murmured.

“Oh, Willow.” He took her in his arms, pressed his hard, dark chest against her pale soft breasts and kissed her as if he would never get enough of her.

She reached to touch him and he was hard and throbbing with his passion. She felt dewy wet between her thighs with her wanting and she spread her thighs. “Make a woman of me,” she begged.

“It-it is a
kapsis itu
, a bad thing to deflower a virgin without the proper ceremony.”

“No,” she insisted, “the way I feel about you is
taz;
good!” and she drew him to her.

“Your eyes are like green fire,” he whispered. His were like intense dark coals in that moment that he came up on his knees.

She reached to put her two hands over his lean, hard hips and pull him down into her. She wanted it done swiftly, like a sword stroke, but his strength was greater than hers and he resisted her urging, coming into her slowly and gently, though he was trembling with his own need.

Oh dear God, he was big!

He held back, fighting her over this. “I won't hurt you,” he promised. “I will never hurt you. . . .”

She felt him break through the thin silk of her virginity and arched up to meet him, drawing him down into her. For a split second he lay on her and she felt as if he had impaled her with his own hot flesh. The moment of pain was replaced with her own urgent need and she began to move under him until he responded. He began to ride her rhythmically, hot and deep and sure.

She embraced his scarred, dear body, kissing his lips as if she could never get enough of the taste of him. This was the man she wanted; the man who had first possessed her so hesitantly, so tenderly, so passionately.

“Please,” she asked and offered her breasts to his greedy mouth again, wanting him to suck them into two molten peaks of desire. He obliged, his touch carrying her higher and higher until she wrapped her long slim legs around his lean hips and pulled him into her, begging that he ride her deeper and even harder to satisfy this yearning that she had never felt before.

After a long, heart-stopping moment, she felt him gasp and stiffen in her arms. It almost seemed that she could feel him putting his hot seed into her womb and the image of his taking total possession of her body drove her over the edge of ecstasy and into a timeless exhilaration that she could never have guessed existed. For what seemed like forever, they clung together while her greedy body demanded that he give her everything he had.

Finally, they collapsed on each other, shaking and gasping for air, him feverishly stroking her hair and kissing her face. “Willow, Willow . . .”

What had she done? The realization of her own daring boldness shocked her, yet she had never felt so sleepily satisfied as she looked up at him and smiled. “I love you.”

He seemed to come to his senses, pulled back, shame in his eyes. “I have behaved without honor.” He drew away from her, horror in his noble face. “I have seduced a virgin who was too young to know better. I come to ask for my brother and I steal her innocence.”

He got up and began to dress, ignoring the stain of her on his body. “Oh, by our god,
Hunyewat,
how could I do such a terrible thing?”

“Was it terrible?” She sat up, pulling her robe around her naked breasts.

He paused, his shirt half on, his rugged face softening. “I have never experienced anything like that and never will again. I'm sorry, Willow, I took advantage—”

“I'm not completely without blame in this,” she admitted, blushing at her own boldness, but unable to turn away and not watch him pull buckskins over that magnificent, heavily muscled body, “and I-I'm not sorry it happened.”

“How do I look my brother in the face?”

“Look him in the face and say ‘she said no, she wanted Bear instead.' ”

“You're confused!” He almost shouted at her. “You feel now that I've seduced you, you must say you love me.”

“Stop telling me what to do!” She sobbed, sad that he regretted everything. “You aren't my big brother, stop protecting me and treating me like a helpless thing just because you're so responsible!”

He shook his head sadly. “Once you have thought this over, you are going to regret it, Willow. Perhaps tomorrow, I can figure out what to do about this terrible thing I have done; tonight, I must think.”

He turned and strode out.

“Bear, come back here! I love you, do you hear? I love you!”

But he was gone. She heard the Appaloosa gallop away from the front of the house. Now what?

She sat there in the rumpled bed, the light dressing gown pulled around her naked body, her tousled black hair falling around her shoulders, and put her face on her knees, sobbing in deep despair. She had been so sheltered and innocent, but this man had set her emotions afire so that she had thrown caution and morality to the winds, and for what? He didn't want her.

“Kuse timine
,” she whispered in the Nez Perce language, go with a good heart. No matter what happened next, she would always love him; that was why she had given him the gift of her virginity.

Maybe after he thought it over awhile, he would know they really did belong together and he would come back and claim her. What if he didn't? No, Willow shook her head, there'd been no mistaking the way he had looked at her, the way he had made love to her. He cared about her and now she knew what passion was. At dawn, she would go out to the camp herself and tell Raven that she desired Bear. Surely he would see that it was only fair and just that two people who loved each other as much as she and Bear did belong together forever.

The reverend wouldn't like the idea, of course, but maybe she could even convince him to perform the ceremony once he knew she had no interest in Billy Warton or any other man but Bear. Of course, with his rigid ideals, he had better not ever know that she and Bear had already consummated their love. He wasn't due home for a while yet, by then she—

There was a sound at the door. Her spirits soared and she ceased crying. Surely her love had changed his mind and returned for her. Willow half rose from the bed, holding the dressing gown around her naked body, wiping tears from her swollen eyes. “Bear? You came back!”