Slater Bros: Apache Summer Part 32

Soon, the evening ceremonies for the young girl would begin, but at the moment, there was a lull as preparations were made. This p.u.b.erty rite was one of the most important for the Apache. It was a structured society, a social one, and respect and honor were tremendously important.

The anger that seethed through him lightened for a moment as he thanked G.o.d that Nalte happened to be an exceptionally honorable man. Nalte had known when he first bargained with yon Heusen that the man who intended to sell a blond woman to him had to be somewhat of an outcast in his own society. But he had not imagined the things Jamie told him. Jamie explained that yon Heusen had made war on Tess and had tried to make the people around him believe it was the Comanche or the Apache who had car- tied out the raids.

That had infuriated Nalte, and it had almost given him Tess.

Almost. Nalte wasn't quite ready to let go.

Jamie clenched his teeth and his fists as he hurried past the circle of tepees and into the night. He wanted to reach the stream, to bathe his face in its coldness.

Yet even when he reached the stream, the water could do nothing to soothe him. He could not forget Tess's eyes-huge, violet and luminous upon his.

She had been so straight and rigid, and yet she had seemed so very small and vulnerable when she had talked to him in the tent. She had explained the past few days with a simple dignity, and he had been so relieved to discover that she had received a minimum of abuse that his knees had gone weak. He had wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise her everything would be all right, that no one would ever hurt her again.

But he hadn't been able to do that. He couldn't make any promises. He didn't even dare touch her lest the emotion or the pa.s.sion tear him apart and lead to Nalte's fury. But he had never hungered more deeply inside for her.

She was always fighting; she was always strong. She had endured so much that she could be no less than strong. And yet now she had that air of vulnerability about her. She did need him. And he wanted to be all things to her.

He splashed more water on his face, and his temper cooled. He owed Jon so much--and not his anger. Yet he had been angry, seeing her trustingly in his friend's arms, seeing the tears in her eyes, the emotion within them. He wanted her. He wanted her in his arms.

He closed his eyes, and saw again the picture of the young woman with the luminous violet eyes and the soft storm of golden-red hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. So quiet and still, and somehow achingly soft in the bleached white buckskins. There'd been a strange serenity about her, a serenity she could not possibly be feeling. He'd felt impotent to be just standing there talking to her. He was her gun, her hired gun. He'd said that he'd protect her, but he hadn't been able to. Others had descended upon her, and she had endured fear and suffering at their hands. He'd been praying for a miracle. Praying that she hadn't been so abused that he'd never manage to live with himself again.

He'd never felt good about killing a man. Never. Not during the war, not after. But he'd wanted to kill yon Heusen's men when they had taken her.

He'd wanted to do more than kill them--he'd wanted to tear them limb from limb and watch them die in horrible agony. Chavez had taken that away from him. For the good of his soul, maybe it was just as well. It was hard for a man to live with that kind of hate. He knew. He'd watched it fester in his brother Cole, and it had nearly cost him his wife, Kristin. Then there had been Chavez.

He'd never seen Chavez, except from the mountaintop. And watching the Comanchere shoot the men in cold blood had kept him from feeling the least remorse when Chavez had fallen beneath his blade. The fight between them had been cold, both men knowing that it was life or death.

Jamie had been a little quicker, and Jon had managed to come around with the horses before the Comancheros knew that their leader had been visited, much less killed. The bound woman on the bed had never moved, and she hadn't seen anything. They were done with the Comancheros--for good, he hoped.

He smiled suddenly. He would have to ask Tess how the woman had come to be bound and tied on that bed. It would surely be an interesting story.

But when they had fled the Comancheros camp, Tess had been nowhere to be seen. They had tracked the trails up and down all night, calling softly to her. He hadn't been willing to admit that they had helped her elude the Comancheros only to send her into the arms of the Apache. But Jon knew the territory, and he knew something of Nalte. And in the end they had decided that the only way they could deal with the chief was to lay their cards on the table. Jamie was going to have to count on his reputation with the Indians. Jori would change into his buckskin attire to approach Nalte first, then Jamie would ride in. It had been risky for them both. The Apache were a warlike people, and Nalte was known to hate the white man. But he had a reputation, too--one for upholding his own sense of honor and hospitality.

Besides, it was obvious from the out skim of the village that some big ceremony was going on, and a chief like Nalte didn't usually like blood on his hands during such an occasion.

And so they were here, and still waiting. Darkness was falling upon the water. The moon glittered gently upon it, and the easy melody of the running water was gentle.

It was a beautiful sight, this valley within the beginning of the fierce mountain ranges.

A beautiful place to die, Jamie thought.

Nalte had promised his decision about Tess as soon as the festivities for his sister had ended. Jon seemed to believe that the Apache chief had already determined he would return Tess, at some cost, of course, but he would return her.

But what if he did not?

Jamie knew he would never leave without her.

If Nalte decided against him, he would have to fight the chief. And if he won, the Apache would probably slay him in vengeance anyway. He might well die in this beautiful place, then there would be nothing more that he could do for Tess.

I'm sorry! he thought. i never should have become so involved. Falling in love with a beautiful angel has surely been the downfall of many a man. I couldn't let you go that morning. I had to make you see that the thing between us was right and that you couldn't turn away from it by the morning's light.

He hadn't had the edge he had needed, the edge that had kept him alive through so much.

So now they were here, and their fate rested on the decision of an Apache chief.

He liked Nalte. He had a keen intelligence, was well- versed in his own language and in English, well-aware of the world around him. And fighting to maintain the inheritance of a people despite an encroaching world. He was not so bad a man, Jamie thought. Rather he die and leave Tess to Nalte, than leave her to trash like David or Chavez. Nalte would never hurt her.

He clenched his fists and swore to the night sky. Then his thoughts raced as he sank on h~s haunches to stare at the rippling, moon-kissed water once again. I will not die here! Come heaven or h.e.l.l, I will fight, and with every edge, and I will bring her home with me!

"Jamie!"

He thought he imagined the voice.

But then, as he stared into the water, her reflection was caught by the glow of the moon almost magically on the surface before him.

"Jamie ..."

She was there. She was wearing the white buckskin dress he had seen before.

Her hair was flowing, rich and waving, paler than usual in the water's reflection. Nor could the water catch the color of her eyes, that violet that was so extraordinary and so compelling, so quick to flash with anger, so deep when touched by her emotions. Nothing could catch that.

No words, no mirrored image.

But the water did catch the softness he had glimpsed before, and he knew then why he had been falling in love with her so swiftly and so completely. She had great strength, she would never tire, and she would never cease to fight, for herself, for others, for the glory of all the great muses that caught her heart. She could not bear injustice, and she would never falter to overcome it.

But never could she be less than a woman, beautiful, giving, enwrap ping all with the pa.s.sion of her soul, and of her life. Once he had wanted only her smile to touch him. Once he had been enamored of the silk of her flesh, and the sweeping curves and slim angles of her form. Once.

But now he knew what it meant to love. It was desire, but more than desire. It was needing the smile as much as the pa.s.sion. It was wanting to lie down by the still waters as much as to weather the tempestuous storm. It was wanting to share a lifetime together.

"Jamie ..."

Once again, she whispered his name. He turned slowly, and saw that she did stand just behind him--no image, no dream, so much more than a reflection.

In her bare feet with her bare calves, her dress falling just above her knees, she seemed exceptionally innocent.

The color of her eyes was true, deep as the night, dark as the desire that suddenly swept over him. He wanted her in his arms--but he dared not touch her. Not until Nalte made his decision.

He swallowed hard and came to his feet. He stared at her and hoped that his scowl was menacing. Yet he didn't even know if it remained upon his face, for he couldn't deny the moonlight or the strange, mystical sensation that seemed to touch her. She seemed to be of the supernatural, too beautiful to touch, an angel, a spirit, the spirit of life that pervaded the mountain.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded harshly. She smiled, a slow cu~rl of her lips that touched her eyes to deep, s.h.i.+mmering radiance.

She took a step toward him, shook her head slightly.

And reached for him.

Her arms came around him, giving, soft. She pressed against him. She was naked beneath the buckskin, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full and flush against him, the hardened peaks seeming to rake his flesh despite the layers of clothes between them. Sparks tore into him, igniting great fires, ripping through his limbs, thundering down to his groin.

And then she kissed him. Her teeth grazed his lips, and the tip of her tongue encircled his lips, touched the roof of his mouth, swept into his mouth. There was a pounding so fierce he could not deny it.

He touched her. Touched her almost violently, his arms sweeping around her, his lips seizing hard upon hers, his tongue returning each sweet torment she had cast upon him. He swept her from her feet and carried her to the soft embankment. He pressed her to the earth, his mouth still covering hers. He felt the soaring temptation of her nails raking lightly against his back, drawing new, s.h.i.+mmering sensations of deadly heat within him.

This was madness.

He drew his lips back from hers, and her eyes met his. Violet, beguiling, with a touch of fire, a touch of innocence.

Sweetly wicked, she smiled again; she touched his cheek. Her lashes fell demurely, sultry, sensual against the pale marble beauty of her cheek.

She had come to seduce him.

He groaned aloud.

It was madness.

Nalte might well kill them both if he came upon him. But the fire had spread throughout his limbs. Tension and desire pervaded his heart and his mind and knotted fiercely at his loin, driving him to madness. How could she smile so hauntingly, knowing that she invited him to doom. He swore softly, and he touched her lower lip in the moon glow, meeting the wild violet beauty of her eyes. "Lead me to death then, if you would, Miss. Stuart. I cannot leave you now."

And he seized her lips once again with his own. The rich, verdant scent of the earth and stream surrounded them, and he was lost.

Chapter Twelve.

l_9ie? Tess whispered against his lips. Desperate to be near him that night, she had hardly believed the good fortune that had let her come to him, and now, in the magical splendor of the night, he was talking of dying in her arms.

He was so tense above her. His eyes raked over her with a hard edge, and his voice was harsh, but still she felt the depth of his longing. It was luxurious to be so coveted and so desired. And yet she wondered at his words, her eyes widening to his.

"Nalte," Jamie said, leaning high above her.

"He would kill me in seconds if he found me with you. Is that your plan?

To seduce me to my doom?"

She didn't reply right away. She smiled wickedly and smoothed his hair back from his face." Would you really die for me?" she whispered softly.

He caught her hand where she touched him and drew her wrists together high over her head, staring down at her. She didn't know if he loved her or despised her in those seconds, but she did know that he wanted her.

Tension con stricter the length of his body, and muscles convulsed at his throat and within the tautness of his features.

"Is that what you want?" he demanded.

He wasn't smiling. She knew that she had probably tested him beyond endurance, so she whispered softly to him in the night.

"No, I do not want you to die for me. Nalte knows that I am here."

"What?"

"He came to me and told me that I could go to you, that he had made his decision. We are to stay here until the ceremonies are complete for his sister, then the Apache will see that we are given an escort out of the mountains."

"Nalte ... knows?" Jamie repeated.

She nodded solemnly.

"He said that you told him I was already your woman. He also said that you were either a fool or a very brave man to have come for me, and that a brave man deserves the respect of other brave men. And so he told me that you were here, and that I could come to you."

He stared down at her, his grip hard upon her wrists as he tried to understand what she was telling him. Nalte had decided in their favor.

There was no need to die here. He could leave with Tess.

He could leave with her.

And he could make love to her, here, tonight, in the shadow of the Apache's mountains, at the stream where life itself and the night seemed mystical.

He cried out harshly and lowered himself over her, his lips parting before they ever touched hers. He ravished her mouth, demanding that it open to his, and he seemed to taste and find all of her, his tongue delving ever deeper, his teeth teasing her lips, his breath mingling with hers, the whole of his kiss so deep and complete and sensual that it was raw and laid her bare. It touched her on a level so intimate that the very decadence aroused her to shattering heights. Then his lips left hers, and she was bereft. The night air touched her lips where they remained damp and moist from his touch.

His fingers were upon the rawhide laces of her buckskin dress. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s spilled free to his touch, and his hand cupped and caressed them, his fingers stroking and arousing her nipples. Then his mouth formed hungrily around one nipple to suckle and tease the hardening bud, to send streams of excitement and desire sweeping through her limbs. She was glad of the darkness.

Flus.h.i.+ng, she wondered how it was the searing liquid fire of his kiss touched her breast, yet sent the molten longing to swirl to the base of her abdomen, and lower still to hover and deepen at the apex of her thighs.

It did not matter where he touched. He continued to kiss her as he slowly eased the buckskin from her body. He kissed the nape of her neck, and the tip of his tongue hovered at her earlobe, then ran a trail down her spine as he s.h.i.+fted her body to toss aside the dress. He kissed the inside of her upper arm, and she had never imagined that a touch could elicit such wild stirrings within her. Nor did he allow his kisses to stop there.

Soon she was lying p.r.o.ne upon the verdant earth again, so close to the water that it lapped at her ankles. And even the touch of the water added to the wonder and the magic. It caressed her as the breeze did, as his every touch did. She was whispering things to him, things she should never have said, things about the wonder and desire he created. She struggled to touch him in return, to know more and more of him. Her teeth sank gently upon his shoulders, and her tongue laved every tiny little wound. Her fingers stroked and ma.s.saged his shoulders and trembled over every ripple and bulge of his muscle beneath her touch.

She shed his s.h.i.+rt, nearly ripping the b.u.t.tons from it. She touched his chest with her tongue, and she moved lower and lower against him.

But then she found herself p.r.o.ne again, and his hands and lips were moving magic upon her. His kiss touched her, searingly hot. The cool water lapped over her feet and ankles, but the whole of her was achingly hot, a fire against the water. His lips touched her bare belly, and the arches of her feet, and her knees and her thighs. And then he kissed her warmly, intimately, at the very heart of her desire, kissed her body as he would kiss her lips, demanding all and giving her ecstasy in turn.

And still the cool stream washed against her. In the end she rose against him, and they knelt together in the shallows in the night, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s moved against his chest as their lips fused once again, and then the fullness of their bodies. She led him down then to the rich earth, and crawled atop him, her hair a blaze of sunset kissed by the moon, ~r movements smooth and sultry as the touch of golden locks swung over his chest and belly.

In the magic of the night, to the rough and urgent murmurings of his husky voice, she rode the magic of the darkness, and of the man, until the beauty exploded within them and around them, until the sweet satiation and exhaustion seized them, until they were filled with one another. Only then did she fall against him. She didn't care about the future or the past; she only knew that she had come to him because she had wanted him. And because she loved him.

Nothing else mattered, for she had learned that time and life and love were precious, and this night she had all three.

They were silent together as the moon cast its gentle glow on them.

He stroked her hair softly and at long last he whispered, "It's true--Nalte sent you to me?" She nodded happily against his chest.

"It's true," she whispered.

"Thank G.o.d," he breathed.

"He's very upset."

"He is?"

"He doesn't like the idea that von Heusen has been causing so much trouble.