Sacred Ground (15 page)

"You're forgetting something—or pushing it into the back of your mind. I'm an Indian. Not so many days ago, that would have sent you turning on your heels. You need time to confront this and decide if it's going to bother you in the future."

"In my dream, I admitted I was Indian so your father would let you marry me."

"Is that why he said yes?" She found it strange to be discussing his dream. It was an intimate thing.

"No. I had no proof. He didn't believe me, but I realized I wanted to be Indian, just so he and all those others around us would accept me for being me. I don't know if I could ever forgive my blood father for what he did to my mother—and me. I'd still like to know who he is."

Willow
raised his hand and laid her cheek against it. "Have you ever seen him in your dreams?"

"No. But when I was little I thought I felt someone watching me while I slept. I'd wake and smell pine and sage. I'd ask my mother and she'd say it was my guardian angel, then she'd warn me not to say anything to my dad."

"Do you think it was your father?"

"Not likely. You've got to remember that those drunken Indians raped her. She doesn't even know which one is my father."

"Didn't she press charges? She could have had blood tests run and―"

"She didn't want a public display. She asked my dad to pretend the baby was his, but he refused. He went into town, got drunk and told everyone how some Indians raped his wife. Several men and my dad went out and found four Indians who were sitting outside a cheap bar drinking. They beat those men without mercy. Several had broken bones and one almost died. Nothing was done to my dad or his friends. No charges were filed for the rape."

"Lord, I never knew. Did your mother ever say if they were the four men who attacked her?"

"Nope.
She wouldn't talk about it to anyone, not even me. When I ask, she just says I’m a child of love, her love."

Chapter Nine

Willow
sat at the cave entrance, alone. Tears filled her eyes, and she wept. She knew it was silly, even childish, but she couldn't help herself.

They needed to find out
who
Brett's father was. They couldn't have a future together until he put his hatred for Indians behind him.

They also needed to figure out how, why, and who killed Gordon. Not that it mattered where her feelings were concerned, but it mattered to put it behind her and Lance.

Then there was the matter of who was sabotaging Brett's ranch. Who would want to hurt him and make it look like she'd done it? Was Gordon’s death mixed in all this? She had strong feelings about it, and if she were honest, her first suspect would have to be Wyatt. But for what purpose or gain would Wyatt be involved?

"Want company?" Brett asked.

Willow
turned toward his voice and smiled. "The boys asleep?" she asked.

"Warm as two brothers can be, with White Buffalo nestled between them.” He chuckled. “That's going to be one spoiled rabbit. Let's take the blindfold off. Keep your eyes closed and when I tell you, open them slowly. It'll be fuzzy for a little while. You should make out the moon and the shadows."

While he untied the cloth, she felt his warm breath, and she closed the distance, pressing a slow, drugging kiss upon his lips. He responded with a gentleness that spoke of love.

"Keep your eyes closed," he said. "Now, slowly, open them. Allow the light―"

"I can see! The moon is there." She pointed. "Wow, look at the silent, silvery landscape. It's beautiful."

"Yes, it's definitely beautiful," he whispered, watching her.

She turned to Brett and read his heated, loving expression. Happiness filled her and she moved into his arms. "I’ve never felt this comfortable in the arms of a man. In all those years no one has made me feel as alive as you have."

"I never expected this. When we left to go after the boys, I wanted to blame Lance for the scheme. Now I think it was Lance who kept them safe and sound for us. He's a remarkable boy. You did a fine job raising him,
Willow
."

"Thank you. I think the same of Sean."

"I was wrong to condemn Lance because he's Indian. I had all those prejudices thrown in my face my whole life, but I wasn’t just a half-breed, I was a bastard half-breed. I thought if I hated Indians enough, I would be thought of as white. I figured if I became a vet, I’d fit in. People would respect me for my status, and they'd forget about my bloodline. I didn't realize the repercussions of my actions until now."

"A long time ago I came to the conclusion that no one will accept me, until I accept myself. I think you should be a vet, but not for the reasons you mentioned. It's what you want to do and it's what makes you happy."

"You're right, of course. Sounds good, but it's not all that easy. Besides, I've got more pressing matters to face. I'm at a crossroads right now. Either I find out who is trying to ruin me, or I lose everything. It's as simple as that."

"I think Wyatt either killed Gordon or he knows who did. And I think what's been going on at your ranch has something to do with Gordon's death. Wyatt said he has some kind of proof regarding who killed Gordon. As soon as we're back and the boys are settled in, I'm going to visit Wyatt and find out what he's holding back."

"Like hell you will. That man is
a loose
cannon. If he's behind all this, I'll find out."

"Now just one minute.
We're both forgetting something really important here."

"And that being?"
Brett asked.

"Us.
We aren't alone any more. We can think in twos. I could go to Wyatt's and you could back me up. Well?"

"You're right," he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

"Brett, doesn't it scare you?"

"Doesn't what scare me?"

"Us.
Aren't you afraid we'll end? The feelings, I mean. I'm worried that one day you'll realize the sizzle is gone."

He laughed, and she wondered what she'd said to make him laugh.

"Sizzle, huh?" He kissed her neck with hot, fiery kisses, then drew her lips into his, demanding a response. "Sizzle!" He moved his palms around to cup her bottom, guiding her against his hardness. "Sizzle, indeed!"

"Brett, you're impossible," she said, giggling. "I was serious."

"I don't think this much sizzle could ever cool off," he answered, smothering her with a burning kiss.

She had a million questions and none of them came to mind. His lips spoke and hers answered. His body called out and hers responded. No thoughts or questions stood in the way.

"Maybe you're right. I rather like the sizzle. Now, we’d better get some rest," she said, pulling out of his embrace and getting to her feet. She reached back and took his hand, then slowly walked back inside the cave. "How should we sleep?"

"Like last night," he suggested.
"Might be best if you kept your shirt on, though."

Smiling, she kicked off her boots and slipped into the bag. A quick glance at the sleeping boys satisfied her motherly concern. Brett got in beside her and pulled her back into his chest, sharing his warmth. It was comforting to have him hold her breast beneath the covers.

"Good night, love," he whispered in her ear.

She stretched her neck back and leaned her face toward him, taking the kiss she knew awaited her. Immediately, she felt the heat of need shoot through her body. Turning in his arms, she clung to him, pressing, pleading for more. His uneven breathing matched hers.

"I want you," he whispered.

"I want you too." Wiggling against him, she encouraged him to slide her shirt higher, giving her breast to him with need. Again she checked the boys, and then turned back to the pleasures Brett had to offer.

Arching her back she gave him freedom to kiss, touch, and suckle. It brought such joy that she couldn't get enough. "I need more, Brett. This is torture."

"Yes, love,
it's
wonderful torture." He gave the boys a quick look. "They're sleeping good and hard."

"What if we woke them? It'd be mortifying." She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it. He followed suit. The touch of skin against skin created an even deeper need. She allowed him to unsnap and unzip her jeans. He slid them down and brought his palms upward, straight to the parting of her legs. She gasped as he rubbed against her panties. An immediate moistness made her ready.

She fumbled with his large buckle until he worked the magic with it himself. She pushed down his jeans to his thighs while he raised himself to help.

"We shouldn't be tempting ourselves," she whispered.

"Who’s tempting," he asked, sliding a finger beneath the thin material of her panties.

Willow
gasped, and her pelvis rose on its own. He used his finger to touch her first. Sliding in, he took control of her body, giving her pleasure unknown before. She cried out, stifling the sounds as best she could. He touched, in and out. He moved his hand to work magic, an electrifying ecstasy that sent her writhing beneath him.

He paused to guide her hand to him. Shyly she touched him, uncertain what he expected.

"Touch me," he encouraged. "Move around me with your hand. It will give me the pleasures I'm giving you." He kissed her hard, yet unbearably tender.

Willow
felt his member move under her fingertips. Gripping her palm around him, she moved her hand up and down, realizing he responded with great enthusiasm. His breathing increased as hers had, he raised his hips in response. He gave her a low, throaty moan, expressing his pleasure. She'd never experienced anything like it.

Again he moved his finger into her moistness and this time she moved her hand in rhythm with his movements. "I want more, Brett," she begged.

"So do I, love," he said in a breathless tone, "but I think we'll save it for a special time when it's just the two of us."

She understood, knowing he was right, but at this moment the disappointment felt like a rejection. He masterfully moved his hand, and soon she forgot everything, except the incredible pleasure he created. He took her nipple and suckled. She rose to give him all.

He slid her panties down to her jeans. Using his palms, she felt him touch every inch of her. He kneaded her flesh, exciting the skin as he moved from place to place. He pressed his thumb into her moistness and she gasped, clutching him, feeling a higher excitement shoot through her. He pumped his hand in simulation and she could only accept and respond in the fury of it all.

She breathed heavily against him. He returned breath for breath. She felt the moisture of his skin and it excited her. Everything about him excited her. She heard the boys adjusting their blankets and tensed.

"You're not making this easy on me," he whispered. "I want you so much it aches."

"I'm not the one doing all the touching," she teased in a throaty whisper. "You brought us to this."

"It was you who turned around and started wiggling against me. What's a man to do?"

"Oh, so it's my fault, is it? Then explain . . .
what's his name―
"

"Everest."

"Everest?
You've named your penis Everest? Good Lord," she giggled. "Is there a reason?"

He pulled her panties and jeans in place. "I didn't exactly name him―"

"What," she interrupted.

"It's a guy thing. We were watching a movie in school and most of my friends thought of holding their books low. I didn't give it too much thought until Joey, my best friend of course, made a comment about
Mount Everest
. Ever since then I thought of him as Everest!" he chuckled. "It's a better name than what Joey got. Cynthia Hanson came to school with the word marshmallow. I decided Everest had him beat."

"A guy thing, huh?
And to think
I
almost―"