Savage Beloved (16 page)

There was a stirring of fire within Candy, fanned to roaring flame by his caresses. A blaze of desire fired her insides. She reached out for him. He gazed into her eyes and felt her need.

His mouth closed hard upon hers, taking hers savagely in his. Her warm breath mingled with his as they clung, kissed, caressed, and he filled her with his heat over and over again in maddening thrusts.

Both drugged with passion, they reached that place of euphoria together, their bodies straining as his thrusts sank over and over into her, until they fell apart and lay on their backs, breathing hard.

After finally getting her breath, Candy turned on her side and gazed at Two Eagles, marveling at what they had just shared.

“My body . . .” she murmured. “I am stunned by how it can feel. It was so beautiful . . . such a splendid joy.”

Two Eagles laughed softly. He reached a hand to her cheek. “My woman, your body, you, are beautiful,”
he said thickly. He pulled her closer. He kissed her. Then he gazed into her eyes again.

“Your passions were always there, lying smoldering just under the surface, waiting for the right man to awaken them,” he said huskily.

“And there you are, the perfect man to awaken them,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and shuddered sensually as his hand swept down her spine again, in soft caresses. “Yes . . . the perfect man,” she sighed. “
My
man . . .”

“For always,” Two Eagles said.

He swept her beneath him.

As he filled her again with his heat, she sought his mouth with a wildness and desperation she would never have believed possible.

She clung to him, their bodies moving rhythmically together, and again she felt the wonders of what his body could do to hers.

She shuddered, arched, and cried out against his lips, their climax almost instantaneous.

Candy marveled at it, finding it, ah, so wonderfully complete!

They clung for a while longer, then rolled apart, breathing hard.

She still felt as though she were floating above herself because the joy within her was so wonderful. This first time making love with a man had been so beautiful. Two Eagles had been so gentle and sweet. He had given her everything, even though he was a powerful chief who watched out for many people whose lives depended on him and the decisions he made.

This wonderful man not only also looked after Candy’s welfare, but he loved her as no man ever loved a woman before. It was in the way he looked at her, the way he held her, and now . . . the way he made love with her.

“I see happiness in your eyes. I feel it when you touch me,” Two Eagles said as he lay beside Candy, facing her.

He moved a hand slowly over her nakedness, savoring the softness of her skin. It resembled the petals of wild roses that he had found ofttimes in the forest.

“I didn’t know someone could be this happy . . . this content,” Candy said, quivering with ecstasy when he cupped one of her breasts and softly kneaded it.

When his thumb began circling her nipple in slow caresses, she closed her eyes in total bliss and sighed, then gasped with pleasure when he leaned over her and ran his tongue over the same nipple, then nipped it gently with his teeth. It was at this moment that Candy realized Two Eagles took much pleasure from her breasts, even though they were small in comparison with Hawk Woman’s.

Yes, Candy’s were small, but they were round and firm, and filled Two Eagles’s hands when he cupped them.

“The night is long,” Two Eagles said huskily as he leaned away and gazed intently into her eyes. “I do not want to spend it sleeping.”

Candy opened her eyes and gazed into his. “But
tomorrow you have much to do,” she murmured, gently touching his cheek. “Your uncle—”

“
Ho
, my uncle,” Two Eagles said, rolling away from her and resting on his back as he gazed through the open smoke hole overhead.

The stars filled the dark heavens tonight with their twinkling sequins, and the moon was now full and bright.

Somewhere close by in the trees an owl spoke to the night with its soft hoots, another one responding from a nearby tree.

“
Nahosah
, tomorrow, I will say my final good-bye to my uncle,” Two Eagles said. “The sadness I feel runs so deep.”

Then he turned to Candy again and took one of her hands in his. “That is why I do not want to spend the night sleeping,” he said thickly. “With sleep come dreams, and I do not want to dream of things that disturb me, not when I can spend my waking hours with the woman I love.”

“Then I shall stay awake with you,” Candy said, bringing his hand to her lips and gently kissing it.

“We can talk, then make love, then talk again,” Two Eagles said, smiling into her eyes.

“There
are
some things I would like to ask you,” Candy murmured as she slid her hand free of his. She reached that hand to the scar beneath his lip. “Like . . . this scar. Was it made during an act of bravery?”

He smiled, then took her hand and held it as he described a day in his youth that he had shared with a very special friend, a man who was also chief, but for another band of Wichita.

“I wish that I could say I did earn the scar through bravery,” he said, in his mind’s eye reliving the moment that had left its imprint on him for eternity. “But I did not earn it in an honorable way, but instead through carelessness.”

“Truly?” Candy said, searching his eyes. She was surprised to hear this man had ever done anything careless in his entire life, even when a boy. “How did it happen?”

“My best friend, Proud Wind, and I were on our very first hunt. We were young braves who had not yet gained the title of warrior,” he said, remembering the pain that had come with that carelessness, a pain he hid from his friend so that he would not be seen as weak. “We were packing buffalo meat on an unbroken horse when it suddenly reared away and then kicked me with both hind hooves.”

“Oh,
no
,” Candy said, flinching at the very thought.

“With a broken jaw tied to keep it in place, I had to drink soup for more than a moon,” he said thickly. He visibly shuddered at the thought of those many bowls of soup. “I now despise soup . . . all kinds!”

Candy scooted closer to him and brushed a soft kiss across the scar, then smiled into his eyes. “If I had been there that day, I would have helped get your mind off the pain,” she said, softly giggling.

“Just looking at you would have been enough to make me forget everything but you,” Two Eagles said, his eyes twinkling. “Even as a young brave I would have known how special you were to be to
me when we were old enough to know what pure love was.”

“Pure love,” Candy said, sighing deeply. “Yes, what we have is pure love.”

Then she reached for his hand and gazed at the tattoo on the back. It was a small design resembling a bird’s foot. “I have never seen such a tattoo before,” she murmured. “Can you tell me about it?”

“The tattoo was placed on my hand immediately after I killed my first bird. I was a small child with a new bow and arrow,” he said, pride in his eyes. “All young braves are marked in the same way for the same reason.”

Then he saw her gaze move to the tattoo on his right arm.

“The tattoo on my right arm, that mark in the form of a small cross, is a symbol of the stars and represents a well-known mythical hero among the Wichita. He is called Flint-Stone-Lying-Down-Above, which in my language is spoken as
Tahanetsicihadidia
, the guardian of the warriors.”

He took her hands in his. “How do you feel about the tattoos? I have never seen them on any white man or woman,” he said, searching her eyes.

“As far as I know, white women do not wear tattoos at all, and I have rarely seen tattoos on white men. Those who do wear them are seen as unsavory sorts,” Candy said.

“I understand the meaning of unsavory,” Two Eagles said. “Do you see me as unsavory for having tattoos on my body?”

“No,” she quickly said. “Not at all. I understand
now why you have them, and I find them intriguing, even honorable.”

He hesitated, then said, “The women of my tribe are also tattooed.”

Stunned at this knowledge, Candy could only gasp. “Truly?” she asked. “I . . . I . . . haven’t seen any on the women.”

“Do you think it unsavory for the Wichita women to wear tattoos on their bodies?” he asked a little guardedly.

“Heavens, no,” she rushed out, realizing that her shocked reaction had disturbed him. “Truly, I do not see any of your women as unsavory. There must be a reason for the women to be tattooed.”

She paused, then with wide eyes gazing into his, asked, “Why do they have tattoos, and . . . where?”

He slowly traced a finger around the nipple of one of her breasts. “This is where you will wear your tattoo after you become my wife,” he said, watching for her reaction.

Candy’s breath caught in her throat at the thought of being tattooed, especially on her breast.

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight’s too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
—William Wordsworth

But soon all of her concerns about being tattooed melted away as Two Eagles bent low and licked slowly around her nipple, causing reborn sensations of bliss to float in warm waves through her blood. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, only opening them again when his voice broke through her passion.

“Let me explain more about the reason why the women’s breasts receive a tattoo,” he said softly. “Three concentric circles are tattooed around one nipple of each Wichita woman. These concentric rings prevent the women’s breasts from becoming pendulous in old age.”

Candy recalled something her late grandmother
had complained about more than once to her mother, when they had no idea Candy was listening. She decided to share this with Two Eagles.

“I remember my grandmother complaining to my mother, when she didn’t know that I was listening, how she hated her breasts. She said that they hung like long melons down almost to her belly.”

Candy lowered her eyes, then gazed into Two Eagles’s again. “To be truthful, I have always dreaded this happening to me,” she said softly. “Now it won’t if that myth about the tattoos is reality.”

“It is no myth. Will you accept being tattooed?” Two Eagles asked, again searching her eyes.

“If that is part of what is required of me to be your wife, yes, I will accept my tattoo,” she murmured.

“There is something about you that I have wondered about, too, but have not asked,” Two Eagles said, lifting her so that she sat on his lap facing him. They were both comfortable with their nakedness in each other’s presence.

“And that is?” she asked, twining her arms around his neck, oh, so in heaven as she fell more and more in love with him as each moment passed.

“Your name,” he said. “I have always wondered about the strangeness of it, but never voiced my curiosity aloud.”

Candy sighed. “Most people wonder about it when they hear my name,” she said softly. “My mother’s best friend, whose name was Candy, was one reason I was given this name, and then my mother said that I reminded her of the sweetness of
candy when I was born. I was so tiny and always smiling, so even when my father protested against the name, my mother would not allow me to be named anything else. I have been embarrassed by my name all my life.”

She swallowed hard, then said, “When I reached school age, I began calling myself by another name, but when my mother discovered this, she went into a fit of rage and I had no choice but to resume being called by the dreadful name Candy.”

“By what name did you call yourself?” Two Eagles asked, intrigued anew by this strong-willed woman who had had the courage to give herself another name, if only for a short while.

“Nancy,” Candy said, smiling. “I called myself what I had named my first doll.”

“That is a nice name,” Two Eagles said. “Would you prefer that name now that you are no longer with your mother? Or would you like a new name? If so, I will rename you.”

“Would I . . . like . . . a new name?” Candy stammered, her eyes widening. “Yes, oh, yes, I would. Do you have one that you have chosen for me? What name do you see me as?”

He placed his hands at her waist and drew her even closer to him, yet leaving enough distance between them so that they could still peer into each other’s eyes. “My woman, I noticed how delicately beautiful you were the first time I saw you—so beautiful you reminded me of a butterfly’s wings,” he said. “I would like to call you Painted
Wings, since all butterflies’ wings seem to have been created by an artist.”

“Painted Wings . . .” Candy whispered, in awe of the lovely image. She smiled into his eyes. “Oh, yes, I adore that name.”

She flung herself into his arms. “I will love being called that,” she murmured, then leaned away from him and gazed into his eyes once again. “But you must understand that it will take time for me to get used to it.”

“I understand,” he said. “For now, I shall think of you as Painted Wings but I will not call you that just yet. You tell me when you wish to be addressed that way by me, and everyone else.”

Candy still couldn’t get over how understanding he was about everything.

But there was one problem. No matter how lovely she thought the name Painted Wings, she felt it might be hard to adjust to being called an Indian name. Perhaps after she was married to him, and felt more Wichita, she could feel like the Painted Wings he had named her.

They stretched out beside each other again near the fire on the rich, thick pelts and talked of so many things that thrilled Candy’s heart. The more she was with him, the more she adored him.

It still surprised her that she could lie nude with a man and not feel uncomfortable or bashful.

Just like making love with him, being naked with him was so natural . . . so right!

Suddenly Candy recalled something that even now seemed too strange to be real.

She turned on her side and faced Two Eagles. “You would not believe what I saw while I was looking for Shadow,” she blurted out, then told him about seeing the three buffalo kill two huge bears, when she would have thought that bears, with their massive claws and teeth, would have been the victorious ones.