Tender savage (26 page)

Viper had not meant to overwhelm his bride with his own

desp>erate longing for bygone days. She was a woman of the present and the future, not the past, and he knew that. He drew her back into the secluded warmth of their tepee and pulled her down upon the thick buffalo-skin beddmg he had already unrolled to serve as their bed. He kissed away her tears, then stilled her trembling lips with the pressure of his own.

"You should never have married me, Viper. How can I raise your children when I have none of your beautiful memories of your tribe?"

"Our children will be fortunate to have your memories, too. They will have twice as many reasons to be proud, not half. You were never meant to be Indian, only to be my wife."

As she looked up at her husband. Erica thought him the dearest man alive. She had never imagined a man regarded as a savage by so many could have such a tender and loving heart. "I do think I was meant to be your wife. It is just that I am afraid I will make you a very poor one."

"No, you are {perfect." Viper raised his hand to the laces at her throat and slowly began to untie them. "You will never guess how much time I spent dreaming about making love to you here."

A slight frown crossed Erica's brow, for indeed she had given no thought to making love to him while they were apart. Deciding she need not admit that, she began to smile. "Well, now that I am here, I will do my best to make all your dreams come true."

"You already have," Viper whispered as his lips brushed her ear softly. He did not speak again as he removed her moccasins, then, with a touch lighter than a whisper, he peeled away the buckskin dress and her soft silk undergarments. In the dim light cast by the dying embers of the fire her fair skin took on a rich, golden glow, gently reflecting the warmth of his adoring gaze. She had assumed a graceful pose, and her supple figure beckoned seductively, her body calling to his with an ageless feminine allure he would never wish to ignore. Quickly casting off his own clothing, he stretched out beside her. He pulled her close, so there was not an inch of his deeply bronzed flesh that did not touch her creamy, smooth skin, but that was only the beginning, not the end of his need to

be close to her.

Perhaps it was the beauty of the night, or the sorrow of his memories that had aroused her passions, but Erica also wanted a new type of closeness. Rising up on her right elbow, she ran the fingers of her left hand down the length of his right arm. "You have the most beautiful body a man could possibly have." She leaned forward then and brushed his shoulder with her lips. "You are so very handsome. You know it, too, don't you?" she asked with a throaty giggle.

"I am not blind," was all Viper would admit. He knew his looks would appeal to a white woman. Since his grandfather's time, the males in his family had inherited the finely chiseled features of the French aristocrat, rather than the distinctively Indian facial characteristics of the Sioux.

"I like the color of your eyes, too. Sometimes when we're swimming they seem to reflect the color of the water and they apf>ear almost blue. At night, they are a warm, smoky gray, though, like the sky just before dawn."

Viper sighed contentedly, very glad he had taken the time to master English, since he enjoyed hearing her compliments so greatly. He slipped his fingers through her curls to pull her mouth to his and thanked her for her praise with one of the long slow kisses he gave so often. As always, the delectable sweetness of her kiss made him want still more, and a long while passed before he released her. "I love everything about you," he revealed as he dropped his hand to her breast where his thumb began slowly to circle the tip until it became a firm, flushed bud that begged for his kiss. "The pale yellow of your hair, the deep blue of your eyes, the beauty of your smile just before you laugh, I love every bit of you," the Indian vowed in a voice slurred by desire.

They had made love on riverbanks, in frontof a fire, in a feather bed, and under the stars, but the close confines of the tepee created a new type of intimacy that was not only altogether different but quite wondrous in itself. Since her mood was so open and loving. Viper knew she would not object to any request he made. "There are many ways we can give each other pleasure. I have taught you only a few."

That remark made Erica curious, but not as Viper had hoped. "Just how do you know so much? Who taught you?" she asked as she laced her fingers in his so he could no longer fondle her teeasts as he replied. She wanted nothing to distract her from hearing his answer.

"I told you my grandfather was French. He took great pride in his skill as a lover. He told me many things none of the other boys ever heard. If you think I have put his lessons to good use, he would be very pleased."

Erica licked her lips thoughtfully as she nodded. "I understand. You wish to keep your memories private."

"No, you do not understand. I want my memories to be only of you." Keeping their hands together, he rubbed her fingertips lightly over his chest, then down the flat planes of his stomach. "I enjoy the feel of your touch and kiss just as much as you enjoy mine." He moved her hand lower then, and while he provided the motions, it was the light pressure of her fingertips he felt.

Erica was not in the least bit shy with her husband. She adored him and knew whatever brought him pleasure would please her as well. Her fingertips caressed the velvet-smooth tip of his manhood before encircling the hardened shaft. Her eyes never left his as the exotic magic she worked with his unspoken instruction made his breath quicken to deep gasps. Her intuition told her he would not have spoken of kisses unless he had wanted them also. Since she had promised to fulfill his erotic dreams, she slid down beside him. She then spread feather-light kisses over his stomach before using her tongue and lips to ignite flames from the splendid heat she had created so easily with the loving motions of her hand.

Viper wove his fingers in Erica's flowing curls, spilling the silken mass over the quivering flesh of his stomach. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to contain the rapture that now swelled within him and threatened to swiftly overflow. The ecstasy continued to build, cresting in shuddering waves that fought for release, until he knew he had to give in to it or lose any hopje of remaining sane. He reached for Erica then, pulling her astride him so the exquisite sensation she had drawn forth could be shared. With his hands gripping her waist tightly, he showed her how to move until he was no longer capable of conscious

thought, and with a low moan of surrender, he finally allowed his powerful body's will to become his own.

Her own senses reeling, Erica stretched out upon Viper's chest, her cheek cradled upon his right shoulder as the joy she had given him spread through her lithe body like liquid fire. It was not simply warmth, but a comp>elling heat that fused not only their bodies but their spirits, as well, into one blissfully content being. It was a long while before she became aware of Viper's hands moving slowly over her back in a soothing massage. "That feels wonderful," she purred sweedy. "Are the French good at giving massages as well as making love?"

"The word massage is French, so what do you think?"

"I think with you as my teacher, I am going to learn many truly remarkable things." She raised her hand to cover a wide yawn, then closed her eyes, thinking his well-muscled body made the nicest bed she had ever found. The steady beat of his heart provided so soothing a lullaby that she was soon fast asleep.

Erica's weight was so slight it was like a living blanket rather than a discomfort for the Indian brave. He was on the verge of falling asleep, too, but he could not stop smiling and congratulating himself for having the wisdom to marry so fascinating a young woman. How could she even imagine he would remember other women, when the pleasure they shared was so complete? "I love you," he whispered softly, and with a contented sigh he joined her in the land of dreams where the beauty of love never ends and the hours are always happy.

When she awakened the next morning and found Viper gone, Erica's fears of visiting his village not only returned but increased tenfold, twisting her stomach into painfully anxious knots. The tepee, whose warmth had been so comforting at dusk, was now only a strange, cold, and totally foreign dwelling. Viper had thoughtfully covered her with a warm buffalo robe, but that consideration did not lessen the icy tentacles of fear that pipped her heart.

How would she ever pass the day without him? They had been together not quite three weeks, but she could not imagine how she would fill the long hours that lay ahead without his charming company. He had said she should spend her time with his aunt. Would the woman come to

her, or should she go and look for her? Glancing about the tidy interior of the tepee, her eyes fell upon the dress and slips she had brought with her. Washing them would give her an excuse to walk down to the river, and if she saw no sign of Flowers of Spring, then she would just stay by the water all day. Anything would be better than being cooped up inside the tepee when she could readily imagine diat everyone walking by was pointing and whispering about the woman Viper had brought into camp.

With the practical goal of doing her laundry in mind, Erica got up, put on the flowing buckskin dress and the moccasins, then brushed out her hair. She then picked up the bundle of soiled clothing, threw back the flap of hide that served as the tepee's door, and stepped out into the sunshine. The savory aromas wafting from nearby cooking fires made her very hungry, but she knew she could scarcely go from tepee to tepee looking for Flowers of Spring in hopes that the woman would share whatever she had for breakfast. Viper had shown her how to recognize their tepee by its distinctive markings, and she looked at it again to make certain she had memorized the brightly painted designs that adorned it. He had said the paintings told stories he would relate later, but it was enough for now that she could distinguish this dwelling from the others.

There were children nearby who stopped their play to stare at her, but Erica smiled sweetly in hopes they were too young to think her an enemy simply because of the color of her skin. The youngsters, however, stared at her with mouths agape, then scattered as though they feared she might chase them. Thinking it perhaps a blessing that she saw no one else about, she turned toward the river. Bracing herself for possibly one of the worst days of her life, she hoped only that she could wash her clothes and find some safe place to quietly spend her time until Viper came home.

There were other women at the river. They stole furtive glances at Erica and whispered amongst themselves, but none smiled at her in a friendly fashion or tried to begin a conversation. When she had washed her well-worn garments, she took them a way upstream to lay them upon bushes to dry, then, grateful for a few moments of privacy, she sat down in the sun hoping Flowers of Spring would

come along, or that some other chore would occur to her. But none did. When her dress and slips were dry, she folded them neatly, but still tarried by the water. She wished she had thought to bring Viper's fishing line with her, then realized that since she had not seen other women fishing, that was probably something the women did not do.

"Well, just what is it they do do?" she asked herself aloud. Diespite the warmth of the sun, she felt very lost and alone. She had tried not to think of the captives' plight as they had entered the village, but now she could not help but worry about them. Were they bound and kept under heavy guard? Was there any way she could ix)ssibly free them? That had been Viper's fear, she knew: that she would disgrace him by seeking to set free the settlers who had been taken captive. She closed her eyes and said a fervent prayer that the captives' lot was not too difficult and that the uprising would soon end. When she heard the shuffle of footsteps approaching she leaped to her feet fearing the worst, but it was Flowers of Spring, not a stranger.

"Good morning," Erica greeted her happily, relieved it was not someone who had read her traitorous thoughts and had come to drag her off to be confined wherever the hostages were being kept "It is a lovely day, isn't it? So bright and warm." The Indian woman looked only puzzled, and Erica gave up her efforts to communicate. Flowers of Spring was holding a basket, and she gestured for Erica to tollow. Erica picked up her clean clothes and tagged along behind her. They went some distance before reaching vines laden with plump blackberries. Readily understanding that she was to help pick the fruit. Erica laid her bundle aside and began to work. She was so hungry she could not resist the temptation to sample quite a few, but when she caught her Indian companion looking at her with a disapproving frown, she forced herself to concentrate upon tilling the woman's basket rather than her own painrully empty stomach.

They worked until the basket was nearly overflowing, and then Flowers of Spring handed it to Erica to carry as they made their way back to the camp. When they passed the place on the river where the other women had been, an attractive young woman in a buckskin dress heavily

decorated with beadwork called out to them. When Flowers of Spring stopped to speak with her. Erica had no choice but to stand holding the heavy basket and wait. She expected some sort of an introduction, but the two women carried on a private conversation for several minutes, making her feel most uncomfortable and left out. She would have gone ahead and carried the berries back to the tepee she and Viper had shared, but the two women blocked the path and there was no polite way she could slip past them.

Knowing their words would not be understood. Song of the Wren bombarded Flowers of Spring with questions. She could not believe that the outrageous tale her brother had told her could possibly be true. Even after Viper's aunt had confirmed the story of her nephew's marriage, she refused to accept it. Finally she brushed by the older woman so she could get a better look at the white woman who had gained the place in Viper's heart she had been determined to win for herself.