Warrior Moon Read online

  He remembered Vanessa dancing, firelight making a halo of flames around her head when it threw its orange glow on her red hair. She fit in with his way of life. He frowned, anger stirring because he didn’t want to love again. And never a white because whites had caused him so much pain and hurt.

  Possess her soon and get her out of your blood. He would possess her and he would take her back to his people.

  The rain drummed lightly on the tent, but beneath the buffalo robes and in Lone Wolf’s arms, Vanessa felt on fire. Her hips moved against him and she tried to stop her body’s intense reaction; but her breasts tingled, her body yearned for fulfillment, and she wanted his kisses.

  “I can satisfy your longing if that is what you want,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her and heightening desire.

  “No!” she said, her hips becoming still at once. Fighting the longing that made her as taut as his bowstring, she tried to be still, knowing he shouldn’t be here, yet feeling that this seemed more right than being alone and thinking about him constantly.

  As she listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart, she clung to him, realizing that he was growing more important to her with each moment they spent together. And that was the greatest danger to her heart. He was a tough warrior who would soon tell her goodbye and ride out of her life forever. She didn’t want her heart and love to go with him.

  Tonight, when he had entered the tipi and crossed to her, she had almost flung herself into his arms. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world to raise her lips for his kiss.

  She stared into the darkness, knowing if she loved him, gave him her heart, it would be disastrous for her when they parted, which would be soon because he looked strong and fit now. She did not want to fall in love with a fierce warrior, a man who still loved and mourned his dead wife, a man who would be relentless about his way of life.

  Vanessa had to find Phoebe and Belva and go west. She had promised them she would get them, and she intended to keep her promise.

  She could feel Lone Wolf’s chest rise and fall in the deep, steady breathing that indicated he was asleep. Vanessa pressed tightly against him, touching his jaw. Any day now they would part, and she would have to go on alone. The thought frightened her because they had encountered many dangers along the way. How would she fare without him?

  She slid her hand across his chest, wanting to hold him forever. Was she already in love with him? she wondered.

  He shifted, his leg sliding over her, across her thigh, a warm, sensual weight. Vanessa felt the blush burn in her cheeks as she held him. Eventually, she fell asleep, and when she stirred in the morning and opened her eyes, Lone Wolf had gone.

  A light rain came down, and at mid-morning she was alone in the tipi when Lone Wolf entered and closed the flap. While there was the steady patter of rain outside, in the cozy, warm tipi was the crackle of a fire burning low in the firepit.

  Today, Lone Wolf was dressed in a Comanche buckskin fringed shirt and pants. The shirt was open at the throat in a deep V, revealing a powerful chest that was beaded with raindrops. He didn’t look as if he had ever been injured. With his height, broad shoulders, and commanding presence, he dominated the large tipi.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his gaze sliding over her in a manner that made her more conscious of herself. “I am ready to go back to my people. We leave tomorrow.”

  She drew in her breath as his words cut into her like an icy wind. From the beginning, she had known they would have to part; but now that the time had come, it hurt. She nodded. “Will you ride out of here with me? If they see you leave me—”

  He waved his hand as if to stop her. “We’ve traveled west into New Mexico Territory. I’ll ride east back into Texas before I turn north, so you can have my protection that long.”

  She gazed up at him. She would have to say goodbye to him and White Bird, but for a few more days, they would be together. The thought of parting stirred a devastating ache, and she was honest enough with herself to admit it wasn’t solely because of the loss of White Bird.

  She nodded. “Very well. Guipago,” she said quietly, using his Kiowa name, which came easily to her now. “I want to discuss something else with you.”

  “What’s that?” he asked. Moving closer, he touched her braid.

  “Muaahap has no family here. I thought she belonged with Siiko and her family, but she doesn’t. Muaahap lost all her family in battles and illness and accident. She has grown to love White Bird.” Vanessa locked her fingers together nervously. “When we go, I have given her permission to come with us.”

  “Hah-nay!” he snapped, reverting to Kiowa and then shaking his head. “No. I have taken on two females already—”

  Vanessa touched his mouth with her fingertips as he had done on occasion to silence her. His lower lip was soft beneath her fingers. Something flickered in the depths of his dark eyes, and he stopped talking.

  “Please,” Vanessa pleaded quietly, determined to convince him to take Muaahap. “Muaahap is old and may not live much longer and she loves White Bird with a strong love. White Bird has lost her parents and for now you have no woman. White Bird needs a grandmother.”

  “She will have grandmothers when I get back to my people.”

  “But what is one more small woman who has great love for your niece?” Vanessa argued, seeing the stubborn lift of his jaw. “She has a great love that White Bird needs because the loss of a mother is disastrous. I know what this loss is. And Muaahap has lost her family; you know her loss. Now she loves this little child. Don’t separate them.”

  He looked over her head. “I do not want three females traveling with me.”

  “Then I will part from you,” she said quietly, “and you take Muaahap.”

  “You won’t survive out here; and if we part now, the Comanche will keep you.”

  “Take Muaahap with you,” she urged, determined Muaahap would not be separated from White Bird.

  He gazed over her head again, staring into space as if looking into the future. He inhaled, making his broad chest expand a fraction, and her gaze lowered. She was intensely aware of his closeness, aware he would soon ride out of her life. Her gaze ran across his powerful chest, down to his narrow hips. As she looked at him, warmth kindled in her, a desire that was impossible to ignore.

  “Please,” she whispered, thinking of Muaahap who had gazed up at her with longing in her dark, bird-like eyes and who cradled White Bird and cared for her constantly.

  Lone Wolf wondered if his life would ever return to the quiet he had known before the battle with the white soldiers. Yet did he want the emptiness he had known then? He glanced at Vanessa and saw the tears brimming in her eyes before she hastily wiped them away and looked down. Her fingers were locked together, the knuckles white; and once again, he felt a jolt of shock that she would be so caring about an old Comanche woman and his tiny niece.

  Vanessa Sutton was so different from all the whites he had known; the few female captives they had taken had been hysterical with fright and then docile and submissive, attitudes Vanessa seemed to know nothing about. And the other whites, the males, had been savage and brutal, taking the life of Eyes That Smile in a cruel way. He recalled the blond officer who had killed Tainso with deliberation. The captain could see he was shooting a woman who had a child in her arms, killing her during the heat of battle when he should have been fighting the men.

  Lone Wolf mulled over Vanessa’s request. His people wintered with the Comanche, so if he allowed Muaahap to return with him, she would be near her own people when he joined his. He tilted Vanessa’s face up and saw she had fought back the tears. The tip of her nose was red and her lashes were wet, making them look thicker and darker and framing her lustrous, large green eyes.

  “You’re soft-hearted, Vanessa. And this is not a world for soft-hearted women. The frontier is harsh and demanding and you must change or it will break you.”

  She raised her chin and gazed at
him with a glint of defiance in her lustrous green eyes. “The frontier needs a few soft hearts to take the hardness away. I’ve already told Muaahap she may travel with us. If you say no now, you’ll hurt her.”

  “It was not your place to give permission, and she knows that.”

  “She is small and will make little trouble.”

  “Any female is trouble,” he said, studying Vanessa, amused because she was more trouble than half a dozen angry young braves. “She snores at night.”

  “She has already said she will sleep far from you.”

  “She can’t possibly get far enough that I won’t hear her. And she clinks with every move.”

  “I’ll tell her to remove her bracelets.”

  “If she does, she may come along,” he said, unable to resist pleasing Vanessa, amused by her bargaining with him.

  Surprise widened Vanessa’s eyes, and then she smiled at him, the first full joyful smile she had bestowed upon him. Her green eyes sparkled. Her white teeth were small and even except for one eyetooth that was slightly crooked. His breath caught in his chest, and he felt his heart lurch because she was even more beautiful when she smiled. It was as if the light around them had suddenly increased and become brighter.

  Lone Wolf touched the corner of her mouth. “If you had smiled at me like that when you first asked, I would have consented sooner,” he said in a deep, husky voice.

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed, seemingly unaware of the effect her smile was having on him. She threw her arms around him and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Oh, thank you!”

  His arm banded her waist instantly, his senses bombarded by the sweet scent of rosewater on her skin, by her slender body pressed against him. He turned his head, his mouth covering hers, which was open in surprise. He bent over her, his tongue sliding into the satiny, wet inside of her mouth, for a moment all his control gone as he kissed her hungrily. He wanted her, all of her joy, her sweetness, her fire. And she was fiery and passionate, responding to him instantly, her tongue thrusting deep into his mouth, arousing him swiftly. As his hands roamed over her, he felt a desperate need for her, wanting to feel her softness and warmth envelope him.

  He trembled with need, aching to take her, to get peace of mind again so he could view Vanessa in a casual manner. He needed relief so when he looked at her, his pulse would not race or his breath catch. His mouth covered hers in a long, slow kiss that was done with deliberation that made her quiver.

  His hand slid down her back over her buttocks, and then he released her, pulling up the top half of the buckskin dress, his hands brushing her skin as he tugged the top over her head and tossed it away.

  “Someone may come,” she whispered, trembling, wanting him, a tiny voice within her clamoring a warning that she was on the brink of disaster, that she should leave him now while she could.

  The air was cool on her skin, and Lone Wolf stood looking at her as if he would devour her. He reached out, filling his large dark hands with the soft weight of her breasts, his thumbs circling her taut nipples, making her moan softly.

  She closed her eyes, her hands going to his chest, moving lightly over his shirt. Caution and reason were gone. She wanted to touch him, to let him stroke and kiss her. She inhaled, her gaze going over his broad chest, and she leaned forward to kiss him, pushing open his shirt and flicking her tongue over his flat nipple.

  The sound in his throat was like a growl as he caught her up against him to kiss her hungrily, bending over her. He paused and straightened to yank off his buckskin shirt.

  Although the air had chilled her, they stood close to the small fire and it warmed her side. Lone Wolf pushed her away, his dark hands resting on her pale hips as he stepped back to look at her, and the expression in his eyes made her want to throw herself in his arms. He made her feel loved, wanted, desired.

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” he whispered as he leaned forward to cup her breast and kiss her, his tongue flicking over her nipple. She gasped with pleasure, her hands playing across his broad, powerful shoulders and then sliding down. With shyness, she paused; her fingers drifted lower to touch his erection beneath the breechcloth.

  He gasped; his mouth covered hers as he kissed her long and hard. His hand slid along the inside of her thighs, and Vanessa felt on fire. With tantalizing strokes, his large fingers moved between her legs to the moist warmth and her feminine bud. She gasped, clinging to him. His hand moved on her, a sensuous pressure that rocked her. Her soft cries of passion were muffled by their kisses.

  Lone Wolf wanted to push her down and take her, to drive into her soft body, to teach her passion. He slid his finger into her, feeling the tight maidenhead, sobering as she clung to him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He moved his hand against her, feeling her response, her hips undulating when who he took her to the brink.

  “Vanessa,” he whispered and pulled her against him again, bending over her to kiss her until she moaned, her hands winding in his hair, her hips thrusting against him.

  With a sudden twist, she pulled away to look at him in a long, searching gaze. “I have to stop,” she said, her protest tumbling out breathlessly, her green eyes belying her words. “If we go on, I will love you forever and saying goodbye to you and White Bird will hurt me deeply.”

  He stared at her, his chest heaving. He would take her captive, make her his woman, so it was merely a postponement if he didn’t take her now. And his body clamored to possess her; he ached badly, needed release, and he wanted her in his bed without reservation. He wanted her to be ready, to want him as badly as he wanted her. And she would soon. She was too passionate to continue to say no, and each foray built fires of need within her because her response was greater each time.

  She took a step back away from him and inhaled deeply. Her pale body was perfection—full, lush pink-tipped breasts, a tiny waist, and slender thighs. There would be another time; and she would be even more ready and more eager because she trembled now and her body was taut, moist, and as ready for love as his.

  Vanessa gasped for breath, looking at his heavy-lidded eyes so filled with flaming desire. She caught up the buckskin to yank it on.

  With another long, yearning assessment, he pulled on his shirt and brushed past her, untying the tent flap and leaving, dropping it back in place.

  The moment he was gone, she closed her eyes and swayed, aching for him, yet knowing this was best. She moved around the tipi without thought, her emotions seething because she wanted Lone Wolf’s kisses. She wanted his love.

  Shocked, she stared at the smoldering embers in the firepit. Was she already in love with him?

  She thought of the past few minutes, the night, the dance, his smoldering looks at her, their passionate kisses—she was losing her heart to him. She would be hurt badly, yet how could she stop her heart?

  She looked at the tent flap, her body aching for his touch and his loving. Think, Vanessa, before you do something foolish that you might regret all your life!

  She closed her eyes, remembering, his hands and arms holding her. He was a hard man and yet he had relented on Muaahap. At the thought of the small woman, Vanessa let out her breath and smiled again, thankful that he had consented to take Muaahap. Vanessa raked her fingers through her hair. She would have to convince Muaahap to remove her bracelets.

  That night all of the women retired to the tipi earlier than the men, who had a council and shared a pipe. The rain had stopped and Vanessa was warm beneath the buffalo robe, but her nerves were raw and sleep was impossible. She waited for Lone Wolf, knowing he would sleep with her in his arms. At the thought, her body tingled. His kisses earlier in the day had set her aflame, kindling a fire that could only be quenched one way.

  Puhihwi Wehki returned with Lone Wolf, and she heard the whispers and rustlings as Puhihwi Wehki bedded down with Siiko.

  And then Lone Wolf slid beneath the robes and pulled her against his already-aroused body. She turned her head. His mouth slanted over hers, and he kissed he
r hungrily. She clung to him, returning his kiss, her heart pounding and her pulse roaring in her ears.

  Finally, she turned her head. “We must stop.”

  He placed his mouth close to her ear. “Someday, Vanessa, you will not tell me to stop. You’ll want me and you’ll tell me you want me to love you.”

  His warm breath tickled her ear and his words dazzled her. He was right. Against all good judgment, his caresses and kisses were melting the barriers she kept around her heart; and when they were gone, the defenses she raised for her body would end. And then, she would have to tell him her name was Sutherland, not Sutton. Lone Wolf already knew her father hated Indians, but he needed to know her real identity.

  Lone Wolf slid away and left the tipi, and she suspected he needed to calm his body because he had been fully aroused, wanting her. A long time later, she stirred and his arms tightened around her. She didn’t know when he had returned, but she was sleeping against him. She felt his strong arms wrapped around her and wondered if this were the last time she would sleep with him. Too soon they would say goodbye.

  The next morning, as shadows slanted across the campsite and a dewy freshness still filled the air, they were ready to travel. Their friends had gathered and, impulsively, Vanessa reached out to hug Siiko and Tsihpoma.

  Dressed in buckskin with pouches of medicine and supplies hanging from her belt, Muaahap mounted the sorrel and reached down when Vanessa lifted White Bird in front of her. Muaahap had removed all her bracelets except one on each arm so they would have nothing to clink against. She wore silver in her hair and ears and around her neck.

  Puhihwi Wehki had given Lone Wolf two more horses, a black and a chestnut, so their things were distributed over three horses. A parfleche filled with pemmican was over each saddle, along with the two rawhide carrying cases fastened with rawhide cords that went over the cantle and pommel of each packsaddle.

  Muaahap had a long, thin stick tucked beneath her belongings, and Vanessa wondered what it was for. She understood the Comanche did not eat fish, so Muaahap had no need for a fishing pole.