Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Nothing scares a horse quicker than a quiet thing that moves toward him and makes no noise.
He will jump and break his neck at the noiseless movement of a rodent in the grass or a falling twig, while a roaring buffalo or a steaming train will pass him unnoticed.
That is because he has the same kind of courage that man has: real courage; the courage to face any odds that he can see and hear and cope with, but a superstitious fear of anything ghostlike.
— CHIEF BUFFALO CHILD LONG LANCE, LONG LANCE: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BLACKFOOT INDIAN CHIEF
Swift Hawk kissed her there, where his fingers had made passionate love to her once before, and as he kissed her, he let his lips roam deeply, loving her as he had never loved another. For, if it were in his power, he would have her rejoice in the thrill of lovemaking, this, her first time.
Her clean, musky scent enticed him, the refreshing, feminine taste of her empowered him, and he felt himself growing ready with anticipation. But he knew he must control his own lust, and he cautioned himself to move slowly, slowly.
She gasped, and in response a fire spread through him that was almost impossible to quell.
The sounds she was making were tiny, high-pitched, and were an accompaniment to the gentle tapping of the rain outside.
As her voice became a lower-pitched moan, her hips began to twist in response to him.
When she opened her legs wider still, he knew she was caught up in a passion as deep as his.
“Swift Hawk,” she uttered softly. “Swift Hawk, I…I…”
He groaned, kissing her even more passionately than before, and then it happened. He felt the spasms of her pleasure as the warmth of rapture became hers. On and on it went, the taste of her an erotic inducement.
At length, she stilled, though her breathing remained an uneven, heavy thing. With every breath she took, her breasts heaved up and down, as though they teased him for a touch. He acquiesced to their demand, for it was a small thing to ask.
After a short while, she rose onto her elbows, that she might gaze down at him. “Swift Hawk, I…I had no idea that it could be so…beautiful. I thought lovemaking was something a woman endured. I didn’t know it was such a living, breathing, feeling thing.”
He simply nodded, though he smiled at her too.
“Now you know. It had never entered my mind that you would not understand the pleasures that can be attained between a man and a woman. It is good that you have discovered this. And remember, we can share this with one another for all our days upon this earth.”
“Yes. Yes. But we are not done, are we? There is more, isn’t there? I mean, for you?”
“Haa’he, there is more.” Scooting up toward her until he had positioned himself over her, he added, “As I have already said, the first time often hurts for a woman. You must know this.”
She nodded.
“Are you ready?”
“Very much so,” she said, and he kissed her on the lips, his touch over her sensual yet reverent. While he held her lips captive with his own, he joined himself with her.
She jerked upward. He had expected as much.
Though he hesitated, he didn’t withdraw from her. That would have been a mistake. Instead, he kissed her again, his tongue mating with hers, and all the while he thrust upward and within her a little deeper. Presently, he felt her protective sheath break around him.
He reveled in the sensation of it, for coupling with her as he was, he knew the warmth of being welcomed. It was an exquisite and joyous feeling all at the same time.
He thrust deeper, marked her quick intake of breath, realizing that it was hurting her, and he wished it could be different.
Even if thoughts of drawing back occurred to him, it was too late.
Being wrapped in her was spurring him on, and the thought of stopping was almost painful.
Again, he plunged upward, and taking his weight onto his arms, he rose slightly over her.
Another strain, then another against her, and at last, she had taken all of him that there was to take.
The feeling was fierce, for he felt not only sensation, but the jubilation of being one with her.
It was a closeness that went deeper than mere physical love.
It was he being her; it was her being him.
It was the recognition of having found the one who completed him.
Gazing down at her, he whispered, “I love you.” Even those words seemed inadequate.
She smiled back at him. “Oh, my darling, I love you too.”
In apology, he said, “It will be better for you next time, I promise.”
“Better next time? It’s pretty wonderful this time.”
He smiled, for he understood that she was easing his concern. Then she wiggled her hips in such a way as to cause him to think he would go quietly out of his mind.
This was physical, a coming to a point where his body worshipped her. And yet it was more—it was spiritual. For they were themselves, yet one.
He held himself back from meeting his pleasure, for it was in his mind to give her a chance to become more acquainted with him, with his body and with the act itself.
As though she knew he was struggling to control himself, she seemed intent on goading him on. “Don’t hold back, Swift Hawk. Love me completely.”
Her plea was his undoing. He thrust into her and out, over and over, his gaze locked on hers, for he would, if he could, join his life force with hers.
She wiggled again, and he was at his precipice, tripping over the edge of a most pleasurable body experience. Though his attention was for a moment caught onto himself, he did not take his gaze away from hers. It was like looking into forever.
And then it happened. She met his response with one of her own.
Watching her meet her pleasure because of him was thrilling.
As he gazed down upon her, he was certain he witnessed the beauty of her very being.
Indeed, so close was he to her, he knew he had surrendered his heart and soul to her, wholly, completely.
And he was glad, so very, very glad, for it was a good thing.
The river below them had swelled under the constant pounding of the rain; here and there it had overflowed its bank. But it did not flood the land within the shelter. Even if it had done so, these two might not have noticed, since they were so caught up in each other.
Together they smiled; together they listened to the music of the rain, sprinkling as it was against their shelter. In unison, they breathed in the moisture-clad air, and each said a prayer of thanks for the crackling of the fire and the warmth at their feet.
In truth, Angelia had never felt so contented.
Outside, the dark clouds had parted, and Angelia could see bits and pieces of a rainbow, its multicolored arch lighting up the heavens. Seeing it, she wondered momentarily if Nature might be apologizing for her earlier wrath over this land.
At present, shimmers of red and gold added to the color scheme of the sky, the land mirroring the reddish hues and the cliffs glistening as though they had been painted in a pinkish haze.
A few black clouds decorated the goldish-red of the sky, but Angelia was beginning to believe that the worst of the storm had finally passed.
But not so the storm within their lean-to. Indeed, both she and Swift Hawk held to each other as if they were afraid that if one of them let go, the other might disappear.
Swift Hawk reached up to settle the blanket more fully around her and leaned over. “There is something on my mind, and it is a thing, a happening, that I feel you should know about me, my wife.”
Wife. He had said wife. What a wonderful word.
Sighing deeply, contentedly, she said, “Yes, I know there is.”
“You know?”
“Of course.” She smiled up at him. “You have mentioned to me several times that you follow a purpose, but you have never said what this is, though I have asked. I fear, my husband…” her grin deepened, “…that you have been very vague about that.”
He chuckled. “What a perceptive woman, and here was I, thinking I had hidden my secrets well.” With his fingers, he coiled back a lock of her hair. “But perhaps you might come to understand, after I tell you what I must, that the reasons why I have been vague are mayhap without fault.”
Angelia grabbed hold of his hand and held it to her heart. “I would never think any other way.” Her gaze looked deeply into his. “I have realized that if you have not said something to me before now, you must have your reasons.”
“Haa’he. I do. I have. But now you should know too.”
He positioned her hand over his chest. “Know that what I say comes from my heart, for what I tell you will seem strange to you. I have seen how the white man lives, and I have come to understand that he keeps himself separated from the spiritual aspects of life.”
“That is not true,” she said. “We are a very religious people.”
“Religious perhaps,” he agreed. “But not necessarily spiritual. There is a difference. For what I have to say is, indeed, spiritual.”
“All right,” she conceded, then nodded.
“Come.” He pulled her close, into his arms. “Let us curl up with one another, chest to chest, skin to skin. Let us take strength from the closeness of our bodies, and I will tell you of my mission, and why I am here. But I must warn you that what I will say is a thing of great mystery, and you may not believe me.”
“I will believe you, for I honor you, my husband.” Grasping hold of his hand, she brought it up to the side of her face where she rubbed her cheek against his fingers. “Yes, my dear, I do honor you.”