Forever Ecstasy (31 page)

Morning Star was lost in a rapturous world of spinning desires. As her lips teased over his face and nibbled at his mouth, she murmured, “We fit like pair of moccasins. We match like petals on flower.” She had been told that most men were not good with romantic words, that most used actions to show their feelings. Joe was different; he did both.

Soon they were inflamed beyond clear reason. Her hands traveled under his loosened shirt for her eager fingers to feel the hardness of his supple frame. She wore a two-piece buckskin outfit today, and Joe’s hand slipped beneath her top and closed over one breast. Surges of pleasure stormed their bodies as fiercely as the weather was storming the world outside their secluded dwelling.

“I want you so much, Morning Star,” Joe almost growled against her responsive mouth. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.”

Before she could tell him she felt the same, his lips captured her and sent her mind to reeling. She loved him and wanted him. How could such powerful feelings be wrong? So many forces had tried to keep Gray Eagle and Alisha, Bright Arrow and Rebecca, apart; they had all failed, because the Great Spirit had brought both mixed couples together and given them a love too strong and tight to be broken or denied. It was as if she had waited for this tender ecstasy all of her life. A savage and bittersweet longing swept through her. Her mind and heart were too ensnared to resist this stolen moment. Her grandfather and uncle had surrendered to mixed love, so it could not be so terribly wrong for her to do so. They were honored legends, as she hoped she would be when this sacred task was done. She could not summon the will to refuse what she wanted with all her soul. Tonight, she and Joe could not help themselves; their match was irresistible, was fated, at least this much of it was, no matter what happened later.

Joe was lost in a whirlwind of emotions and sensation. He drew her to him with possessiveness. His breathing was ragged, his heart drummed within his chest. He seemed to quiver like a feather in a strong breeze. The storm outside ravaging the land was nothing compared to the one assailing him. He had no choice but to submit to whatever fate had in store for them tonight. He shifted his weight, which allowed them to sink to his bedroll.

Morning Star went along with him, willing and eager. His masculine scent filled her nostrils. His touch was tantalizing. Her deft fingers freed the buttons on his shirt and her fingers traced the smooth and hard surface of his chest where no hair grew but where muscles rippled like water over rocks. She explored the wonders of his compelling physique. Her head rolled to one side as his tongue trailed down her throat, then with titillating leisure returned to her mouth.

Their lips meshed with fierceness and urgency. The emotions they had tried to deny and restrain for so long burst free and galloped away. There was no way to recapture the innocence they
were leaving behind.

Morning Star savored the way Joe’s hands felt on her pliant body. Her breasts did not want him to leave them. Yet she longed for so much more, and she had a suspicion where their new trail would lead.

Joe was as spellbound by the blissful moment as she was. His lips brushed over her face, halting at each feature to explore it in detail. His experiences with women had never prepared him for this rare one. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to keep her forever.

They continued their discoveries of each other, and reveled in the joys of them. Each knew their destinies were being forged into one, and they must find some way to help fate along. Each burned with desire. Each knew there was no turning back.

As their mouths clung together, Joe, with her help, wriggled out of his shirt. Morning Star, with Joe’s assistance, removed her top, their lips parting only long enough for the garment to pass between them. When their bare chests touched, they seemed to cling to each other with wills of their own. While Joe caressed a breast with one hand and showered the other with ecstatic kisses, Morning Star loosened the ties of her breechcloth, as her skirttail had raised itself long ago during her writhings. She did not pull away to remove her skirt, and was only half conscious of it being between them. After Joe’s seeking hand covered the distance between her breasts and abdomen, she arched and moaned when it made contact where she had never been caressed before.

Joe stroked and caressed his love until both could no longer stand the denial. His hand halted only long enough for him to work the fasteners of his pants. He moved atop Morning Star and slipped between her parted thighs, lowering his pants as he did so. He did not have to ask her if she was sure about continuing, her actions told him she was as willing to proceed as he was. With caution, he lowered his body to hers and entered the paradise he had dreamed of for weeks. Her response told him he had not hurt her.

Morning Star was consumed by the wonder of becoming a woman, Joe’s woman, of surrendering to love completely. She had been right; they fit as perfectly as the best matched pair of
moccasins. It did not feel strange to have him within her; it felt right, wonderful, as if it should be.

Joe experienced those same thoughts and feelings. They were joined as one, as it was destined to be. Perhaps he had sensed that truth the first night they meet. He accepted the fact that he loved her. In all ways but one— under white law— she was his wife. He vowed to keep her for as long as possible. She was his, so that had to forever.

Morning Star’s fingers halted their trek at the wound Joe had gotten while rescuing her. Even when they were strangers, he had been willing to die for her. Whatever it took, they had to find a way to stay together during and after this sacred mission. Surely Grandfather would not put such love in their hearts only to force them apart later.

As the most glorious moment of this new and rapturous experience burst upon them, they kissed and clung together as if promising nothing and no one would ever come between them. There was no retreat, no restraint. They savored the final destination they had reached together. For a time they were aswirl in a glowing mist that shut out all reality except for this blissful ending to something both had craved. Pleasure melted into contentment as they snuggled together, sated for now.

The thunder and lightning had ceased, but heavy rain continued to fall. It was music to their ears and relaxing to their spirits. Both sighed deeply as the they rested after their lovemaking. Without meaning to do so, each allowed the reality of the world outside to enter their minds. Perhaps it was the darkness of their surroundings which denied sight of each other’s face that reminded them of their grim situation.

“Morning Star-”

She covered his mouth with her quivering hand. “Do not speak bad words. We joined in hearts and spirits. We have much this moon. We can have nothing more. Do not bring sadness and pain to our hearts.”

Joe understood what she was saying and feeling. This was her world and her culture. His were far away; they could not join or overlap. He agonized over that truth, as neither could give up who they were. Her world would not accept him, and his would not accept her, They were too smart to say that nothing mattered
except their love. And he knew he did love her. Those words were hard for a man to confess the first time he truly meant them. Surely she guessed it from his mood and actions, as he knew she must love him to surrender tonight. If he spoke his innermost feelings aloud, it could frighten her and cause her to withdraw from him. People could not survive by love alone. Having everyone and everything against a union could damage it severely. But he was not ready to face that challenge yet. For as long as he could, he had to hold on to her. He embraced her tightly as he tried to accept what his heart refused to believe: that he would lose her.

Morning Star tried to halt any dream of a future with Joe from forming. It was futile, hopeless, and forbidden.

When she started to tense, he asked, “What is it?”

“I wash while rain still comes.” She freed herself from his arms and, finding her way with her fingers against the stone roof, she crawled to the front of their shelter. She moved outside and stood in the pouring rain, naked, chilled, and heartbroken. The rain flowed over her slender, shapely body and washed away the traces of their lovemaking.

Joe finished removing his pants, then joined her and did the same. He lifted his face skyward and allowed the cold water to cool his hot body and remove his sweat. His heart felt heavy inside his chest. He raged at the obstacles that stood between him and the only woman he had ever loved. More so, he raged at his helplessness, his inability to overcome them. Despite his father’s strength and Joe’s respect for him, Joe had left home against the elder Joseph Lawrence’s wishes. Something within him had demanded he seek the man he was inside, the man hidden by his father’s shadow. He had been compelled to do something on his own, not just take over a business handed to him through an inheritance. He had hungered for adventure and excitement, and couldn’t be blamed for seeing shipping as unfulfilling. He loved his parents and had obeyed them until his restlessness had forced him to walk away from home. One day he would return and take the place expected of him. By then, he would be mature and his wild thirst would be quenched. He would be confident and content, a man of his own. At least he had felt that way until meeting the woman beside him. Now, what would his life
be without her?

As they stood there in anguish and silence, the rain slowed and halted. Clouds drifted westward, and the partial moon offered scant light. Joe gave a loud sigh then fetched a blanket. He handed it to Morning Star and watched her dry her flesh. Neither could see much of the other’s unclad body, but neither shielded themselves. She returned the cover, and he did the same. Joe hung it over the ledge to dry if the sun came out in the morning. They ducked and returned to the bedroll, but they did not redress in the cramped darkness.

Joe took another blanket and lay down on it. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he suggested, and tossed the cover over them.

Morning Star snuggled into his beckoning arms and her chill left. For now she would enjoy his embrace but, she cautioned herself, there was no way to remove the stone wall separating them. When morning came, she must concentrate only on the dangerous task looming before them. “Sleep, Joe. A hard task rides before us.”

The white man’s arms pulled her more closely against him. He smiled when she nestled into his embrace. She fit perfectly in his arms. If only, he agonized, she could fit as perfectly into his life in Virginia. Even if she studied and worked hard for years, she could not change herself into an aristocratic southern belle. And even if by some miracle she did, she would no longer be Morning Star. He could not alter her into something she wasn’t just so he could have her forever.

Nor, Joseph Lawrence the younger realized, could he remain here in Lakota Territory for the rest of his life. His family, work, friends, and life were back in Virginia. He had responsibilities and duties to his family and to his father’s shipping business. He loved this wild and carefree existence but, he admitted, he would miss civilization eventually. It was just as cruel to let Morning Star think he would remain here after their task. A world and breed apart— that said it all and he must accept it.

Morning Star was not sorry she had yielded to Joe. Her problem was forcing wild thoughts and dreams from her head. She had heard many tales of how life was in the white world: eating at big tables, having wooden tepees with furniture, dressing in
long gowns, behaving in strange ways, working away from your home to earn money, having slaves— servants— to tend your chores, getting food and supplies in stores. To think of going there was intimidating. She could imagine how the whites would treat her, and how they would treat Joe for bringing her into their “society.” No, she could not be happy in the white world, just as Joe could not be happy here. She must not hope for more from him than he had given tonight. She could no more expect him to live in her strange world than he could expect her to do so in his.

After an hour of each telling themselves a permanent bond between them could never come to pass, their troubled hearts found appeasement in sleep.

Joe eased from her side and grabbed his clothes. He slipped away to excuse himself and dress. He knew he had awakened her, so he gave her time to do the same while he checked on the horses. When he returned to the shelter, Morning Star had the sleeping mats rolled and tied. She was clad in the same buckskin outfit she had worn yesterday, and she looked as fresh as the spring day in progress. She glanced at him and smiled. Relieved, he returned the gesture.

She focused on her chore. “Wood is wet and no burn. We eat little and ride. We eat more when stop to rest and wood is dry for fire.”

“Morning Star…” he began in a hesitant voice, kneeling near her.

Her chocolate gaze met his blue one. She caressed his bearded cheek. “No need to speak of last moon. Let it sleep in our hearts until best time to speak of it. That not today. We friends. We partners.”

“When the time comes for both of us, we’ll have to talk about it.”

She gazed deeply into his eyes. “That is so,” she said, grasping how dismayed he was. She believed he loved her as she loved him, but it was too soon to expose such strong feelings. They needed more time together. If their Life Circles were meant to cross or to mingle, they would discover that wonderful truth
when the Great Spirit willed it. “Thanks,” he said, his gaze softening and glowing. She knew what he meant. “Eat, and we ride.”

It was midafternoon and they were out of the Black Hills. The sun was radiant and the sky was clear. Everything smelled fresh and was vivid green following the drenching rain. In four days they should reach Orin McMichael’s trading post on the Missouri River, about forty miles north of the settlement that had come to be known as Pierre, pronounced Peer.

Joe lifted himself in his saddle and stared beyond them. He locked his eyes on a rider he recognized and studied him. His mind went to work quickly. He related his daring plan to Morning Star, who nodded her agreement with apprehension. “Let’s ride. There’s our chance to put a good plan into motion. Remember, you’re my squaw, so behave like one,” he jested and grinned. “We don’t want to get ourselves shot.”