Chapter 7 #3
Was this real? Was he dreaming? Had his luck changed?
For, although he was no stranger to the act of love—having lain with several of the widows of his tribe—he had never dared to court a maiden, knowing he could not give a woman the possessions she desired most: a home, a steady food supply, children.
Thus, his sexual experience had been relegated to a casual night here and there. Never had his heart been involved.
But this was different, and he realized its difference at once. This was a meeting not only of the heart, but of the soul. Odd that it would be a white woman who would affect him so.
He took in a deep breath, letting go of it slowly, afraid of any quick action on his part which might cause her to disappear. At last, he found his voice and discovered he was able to say, simply, “You are beautiful.”
She smiled up at him, and in the look was so much affection—innocent, yet provocative affection—he thought he might quietly go out of his mind.
Then he did what seemed the most natural thing to do. He tenderly caressed her breasts. He bent toward her, trailing impassioned kisses from her forehead, down to her cheeks, down farther to her ear, her neck, and finally to each rosy tip.
She moaned and threw back her shoulders as though to offer herself more fully to his ministrations.
His body answered hers in an entirely male way.
He pulled her dress past her waist and then took it off her, leaving only the transparent white material of her gown covering her.
This, too, found its way to her feet quickly.
He knelt and massaged each foot in its turn as he slipped off her shoes and hose.
Glancing up, he was enamored by the sight of her completely naked form.
Emotion choked at him, but aware of what they both needed, he pressed her onto her back and came up over her.
His fingers trailed up and down, over every quivering bit of her flesh, found unerringly, too, that moist place between her legs.
As his touch feasted on her there, her hips swayed against him in a sweet, gentle rhythm. It was an exquisite bit of pure heaven, and he said, “I think, my wife, that you are ready for me.”
“Yes, I think so too. Although…”
He frowned down at her.
“Although shouldn’t you remove your clothes?”
He gulped. His own state of dress had escaped his notice.
Reaching toward his waist, he untied his breechcloth, letting loose his engorged manhood. At her gasp, pleasure washed through him, for surely she complimented him. He positioned himself over her.
Though he could barely hold himself back, before he took the next step, he needed to ask, “Forgive the question, my wife. I mean no insult. But had you and Scout LaCroix been physically intimate?”
Again, she moaned, but this time it did not sound as though it were from pleasure. “Please believe me. LaCroix was not my husband.”
He nodded. “But did he—?”
“Please, go no further.”
Grey Coyote swallowed, and feeling as guilty as a young lad having been caught doing something wrong, he became still. True, he had asked her to stop him if she were able, but he had never dreamed he would come so far before she would demand a withdrawal.
He dropped his hands, and setting her away from him, he reached for his breechcloth.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why have you stopped?”
He cleared his throat. “You said to go no further. I will respect that.”
“Oh, no, no,” she replied easily, relaxing back against the buffalo robe.
“You misunderstood. I meant not to speak to me further of Jacques LaCroix. Please believe me, I speak true when I tell you he lied to you. He was not, is not, has never been my husband. I have never been married to anyone. In truth, I have never been with a man before.”
Grey Coyote swallowed. “Never?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
His breathing stopped, his throat tightened. This woman was a virgin?
If it were possible, his spirits flew straight to the heavens, for it took no genius to realize he would be her first. Would he also be her only?
He refused to follow this line of thought and pulled together his musings. “I think we will proceed slowly.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But not too slowly.”
Again, he swallowed hard, and he came down over her, pressed his lips to hers, and with one slow push after another, he joined himself with her physically.
Ah, the warmth that welcomed him, the pleasure of her inner recesses. He shuddered, and his sigh against her was deeply felt.
Everything about her was right, from her feminine scent, to her naked form, to her very soul.
Forget that they had been together for so short a time.
It was as though they were old friends, as though this were merely a reacquainting of the heart.
Had he been born only so he might live and experience this moment?
He pushed himself upward, still sheathed within her tightness, and he proceeded to love her, but perhaps in a slower, more controlled way than the manner in which he had been accustomed to doing.
After all, she deserved to reach her pleasure, even this, her first time.
As Marietta traded kiss for kiss, embrace for embrace, she couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more. Why? Surely this wasn’t love.
It couldn’t be, since it was not as if what happened here would change the course of her life. No, the pattern of her life was set, had been set years ago. Why then did she feel such longing, such joy?
Oh, if only she had someone to confide in, someone to tell her deepest longings to. But the princess was far away, as was Yellow Swan.
No, she would have to decide on these matters for herself. She would have to trust herself, her own judgment. And oh, dear Lord, being in this man’s arms was…sweet.
It was too bad they would not have more time to share with one another. But the die was already cast. Besides, there were some responsibilities which were more important than love.
Love? There it was again. And it didn’t belong here. What was probably a more correct statement of fact would be to say what she felt was lust.
But Grey Coyote had intimated that theirs was a matter of the heart, an instinct, if you please. Was it true? Had their hearts spoken to each other?
Perhaps it was so. Certainly she couldn’t credit their coming together from Grey Coyote’s words of undying love—there hadn’t been any.
Yet, she could not deny there was a quality about this man which made her want to…enrich him, to contribute to his welfare. Did this mean he had touched her heart?
On its own, an image of this man in prayer, up on the butte, came to her. Was it only yesterday?
Why had the moment been so magical?
She sighed. She simply didn’t know, and there was no other feminine presence here to guide her. She was on her own.
“Hmmm,” she moaned as pleasure rocked her body, making further thought impossible. The sensation took her by surprise, for she hadn’t expected it. True, Marietta was more than aware that a man might find ultimate pleasure in the act of love. But a woman?
Wasn’t it a woman’s lot to enjoy kisses and hugs only? Wasn’t this what the ladies in Princess Sierra’s court had whispered?
Marietta closed her eyes against the pleasure which swept through her. Perhaps it wasn’t true.
Grey Coyote broke into her thoughts by whispering in her ear, “Wrap your legs around me and let yourself go. Though this is your first time, this act should bring you much joy. Spread your legs and give yourself to me. I will not betray you. Remember, I am your husband.”
His voice, so soft and husky against her ear, sent a wave of heat along her nerve endings.
She whimpered lightly, and beside herself, she strained against him, all the while opening herself to him.
Though it was true she spread her legs more fully, it was also a fact that she opened herself to him, becoming, perhaps, a part of him spiritually, and he, most likely, of her.
Joy swept with a rush along her nerve endings, the source of it originating at the junction of her legs. Her attention became absorbed by it and it alone.
The gratification of it built as well. It rose, it crescendoed, until all at once an uncontrollable physical elation swept through her body, sending radiating warmth to every part of her. She wiggled against the tide of it, and against him, straining for more, and she wondered, had he felt it too?
Perhaps so. For at the very instant, she was certain he had released within her, and she caught her breath.
It was like being endowed with a flash of paradise.
Who would have thought that here, in this dangerous, savage environment, was a bit of heaven?
But their lovemaking wasn’t over. Not yet. They bore against one another, their gazes locked, and together, wrapped in one another’s arms, they tripped over the edge of heaven, again and again and again.
At last, exhausted, they fell toward each other, her body cradling his.
Gradually, she fell into a blissful sleep.
If her dreams were filled with images of herself and Grey Coyote flitting through space as though they were one, she was to be forgiven.
For at this moment in time, so close was she to him, she felt as if she were him.