Love Is in the Air (85 page)

“What dance is this?”

“The Bear Dance. It is usually danced in the spring, but we have so few of these that we tend to dance anything we can. Besides, it seems appropriate for tonight.”

Regina shifted so that she could see the old woman. “Why?”

“It blesses those who dance it well with prowess in the hunt… and lovemaking.”

Feeling herself blush, Regina turned away from Whispering Flower. Could this get any more flustering? Could she feel any more embarrassed? Regina needed to change the subject and change it fast. “Did I commit a faux pas back there when I asked for the blanket?”

Whispering Flower shrugged. “It would only be an error if you did not feel the same way about Quinn.”

“Same way? How?” Regina asked, but knew she probably would not like the answer.

“Traditionally one only shares his blanket with one he shares his heart with. And vice versa.”

“Oh,” was all that Regina could squeak out.

Whispering Flower’s old wrinkled hand took hold of Regina’s and patted it. “You will watch, and you will learn.”

Regina was not even sure what she was going to be watching, let alone what she could learn from it, but she trusted this old woman.

* * *

Quinton felt slightly embarrassed that he did not have any of the traditional costumes for this dance, but he noticed that many of the men did not. Even Black Feather only had on a headband, but otherwise was dressed in jeans. It did not take long for the pounding drums to overcome Quinton’s shyness. He was shocked to find that his feet knew the dance better than he did. Quinton should not have been surprised, though. This was the first dance he had learned. Before he could walk, Quinton was out at these potlatches learning from his grandfather.

Feet, hands, and voices worked in synchrony to summon the gods to this celebration. They danced to the Great Bear and asked him for strength in all things. It was simple enough for children to join in but complex enough that a man could practice it his whole life and not feel that he had ever gotten it quite right. Young and old voices rang into the crisp night air. The metal growler joined with the drums to create a sound unique to his tribe. The elders in the background spoke the old words and prayed, while the younger folk danced. It was the way it was and had been for centuries.

The beat was insistent and carried him into the dance and away from his worldly concerns. Soon he no longer even thought of Regina. The music found a hold on his bones and guided him through the steps. All that mattered now were the drums and the other dancers. Together they kept rhythm and became as one. If he was not so fiercely stirred to action, Quinton might have cried. The feeling was that intense. A sense of connection and community filled a part of his soul that had been barren for too long.

Each dancer stood apart, yet was connected by the melody. Their shouts and cries during the dance unified them. The heat of the fire pounded on their bodies, but they did not stop. Other times dancers would bow out and be replaced by new dancers, but each one this night knew this dance was different. No one wanted to break the rhythm they had established. Hot and sweaty, they danced. The rest of the world was just a swirled blur outside their circle of fire.

* * *

Regina watched in amazement as Quinton seemed to lose himself in the music. One would not have known that he had been away from the reservation for over fifteen years. The drums were like a heartbeat, and even she felt a strange yearning to move to the rhythm. Regina could so easily imagine Quinton and herself dancing together, their bodies pressed close. So engrossed in her thoughts, Regina nearly forgot that Whispering Flower sat next to her.

“He moves like a panther, does he not?” the old woman asked.

Blushing, Regina replied, “Yes.”

“As do you.”

“I don’t think so,” Regina said, confused by what Whispering Flower was saying. Was the old woman blind?

“There is strength beneath the surface. Quinton’s is shining through right now. With a little practice, yours could, too.”

Regina shifted her weight. Suddenly, sitting cross-legged on the ground felt very uncomfortable. She wanted to lie to the woman and get Whispering Flower to close the subject, but Regina found that she could not.

“I’m a pretty passive person.” What Regina really meant to say was that she was weak, but somehow that word did not fit her anymore.

“Even a cougar caged and beaten long enough will forget the power he once had. Some will lash out at even the kindest hand. Some will become so friendly as to charm their tormentor, and others will curl up in the corner and fade away.”

Regina blinked rapidly as she processed Whispering Flower’s words. Was that not her own household? Michael’s rebellious behavior? Meryl’s sweet countenance and Regina’s own apathy? Perhaps this old woman was as wise as Regina had thought earlier, only in a different way. Whispering Flower might not be a mystic, but she was uncannily accurate.

Whispering Flower patted Regina’s knee. “Do not fret. Look at Quinn. He locked himself in his own cage for fifteen years. Look how quickly his strength has returned.”

Regina’s eyes sought out Quinton again. Even in the few moments that she had looked away, he was even more glorious. Quinton’s face was streaked with sweat, but it only brought out his rugged features all the more. Regina wished that he would look upon her with such intensity and purpose, but Quinton was given over fully to the music.

Turning back to Whispering Flower, Regina said, “I don’t know these dances.”

“There are other ways the body can move and bring you into harmony with the universe.”

Regina blushed. She could certainly think of one, especially with Quinton, but that was not what Regina thought Whispering Flower was talking about. Quickly, Regina found out that she was wrong.

“Does the Great Bear not teach us that making love is the best gift one can give back to the universe?” the old woman asked.

Regina blurted out before she could think, “But I’m married.”

Whispering Flower took Regina’s hand in her own. “Not in your heart.”

“What—”

“Regina!” Quinton interrupted the women’s conversation as he rushed forward. “Damn, that felt good.”

Before Regina could respond, Quinton pulled her up onto her feet and into his arms. She was already shaken; now in his embrace she was completely overwhelmed. The aroma of his sweat made her skin burn and her mouth go dry, yet her mind was still swimming from Whispering Flower’s words.

“Have you shown her around the reservation yet, Quinn?” the old woman asked.

“No, but I was thinking that it was about time.” Turning his full attention to Regina, Quinton nudged her chin up so that they were looking into one another’s eyes. “Want to go for a walk?”

It was not his words that made Regina’s pulse pound more loudly than the drums. It was the way he said them and the way his hand stroked up and down her back. “Sure,” she answered feebly. Regina did not have much energy left to devote to vocabulary.

Quinton gave a squeeze to her hand, and they were off. He just waved to his friends as they strode toward the forest line. “Later!”

Black Feather shouted so that the whole campfire could hear. “We won’t wait up!”

Regina was suddenly self-conscious, but Quinton seemed to eat up the attention. The smile on his face deepened as they headed into the woods. The farther they traveled away from the fire, the deeper the shadows. The trees were so thick that the moonlight only streamed down in tiny rays, barely enough to illuminate their path. Despite the darkness, Quinton seemed certain of their way. His hand was slick in hers, but Regina did not mind. There was a certain urgency to his step and a cadence to his stride that suggested he had his own set of drums that he was following.

Regina needed to collect her senses before the beat carried her away, too. Groping for conversation, Regina asked the first questions that came to mind. “Why has Whispering Flower kept her hair short?”

“She’s still in mourning for my uncle.”

Not quite getting the connection, Regina asked, “So she cut her hair?”

Quinton nodded and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. It is a tribal tradition. She swears she will mourn for him until her own death. But that’s the past. Follow me into the future.”

The man picked up the pace until they were nearly running through the forest. Whispering Flower’s words were fading in importance the farther they were away from the crowd. All of her confusion seemed to melt the longer she was with Quinton. Who cared whether Regina was married on not? Only staying on her feet and not tripping over the branches were Regina’s concerns. Racing up a hill, they finally crested the slope.

The sight before them stopped Regina in her tracks. Spread out below them was the entire valley. The lights of the town twinkled in the night sky. Mist spread out over the hillside and settled into the nooks and crannies of the streets. The view was breathtaking.

“Makes even Crow’s Landing look beautiful, doesn’t it?” Quinton asked, but Regina knew it was a rhetorical question. There was nothing else really to say about the view. It spoke for itself.

Quinton gently turned Regina to face him. Without thinking, Regina accidentally dropped the blanket from her shoulders, but Quinton kept her from picking it up. “You won’t be needing it anymore.”

Ever so slowly, Quinton’s hand caressed up Regina’s arm and onto her shoulder. From there, his warm palm traveled up her exposed neck. As skin met skin, Regina felt a shocking sensation. Her nipples were so tight that it almost hurt when she was pulled against his chest.

Regina looked into Quinton’s eyes and found him searching hers as he leaned toward her. She felt like squirming under his loving scrutiny, but she did not want to ruin this most perfect moment. His head tilted to the left and Regina leaned into his hand on the right, inviting him to come closer. Regina knew that she should close her eyes as their lips came closer, together, but she did not want to miss a single instant of this kiss.

Apparently, Quinton felt the same way, for his eyes flickered, perhaps trying to survey her face, as she was his. At first, Quinton’s lips touched tentatively, almost as if he was uncertain of the type of reception he would get. Quinton need not have worried. Regina met his tender kiss and pressed herself against his chest, bringing them even closer. Finally, Regina no longer kept her eyes open. The myriad of sensations arising from her mouth demanded her full attention. Quinton’s lips parted ever so slightly. His teeth gently nibbled her lips. Where his teeth tugged a bit, his tongue came forward and wet her lips.

The delectable sensation coursed from her mouth like a bolt through her body and settled somewhere beneath the belt. Regina’s hand found the back of Quinton’s neck, and her fingers snaked through his hair. Then Quinton did the most amazing thing—he moaned. It was not one of those awful “come on, baby, give me more” type things she was used to out of Wayne. This was soft and appreciative, like Quinton was enjoying this kiss as much as she was.

Becoming braver with his vocal encouragement, Regina scratched with her nails. For every bit she escalated the intensity, Quinton responded in kind. His tongue was no longer content to fondle her lips; it sought to explore her mouth. Regina knew it was silly for a thirty-five-year-old woman, but she had never really liked French kissing. It was usually too wet and too sloppy for her taste.

This kiss, however, was like none she had ever had before. Her tongue stroked along the side of his, urging it forward and back. Their mouths set the rhythm, but it was their bodies that played it out. Regina could not get enough of this pleasure. Her hips locked with his and rocked back and forth. Unconsciously, Regina’s leg pulled up and wrapped itself around Quinton’s thigh, tightening their hold on one another. The woman was far more hungry for passion than she could have ever imagined.

As little as Regina knew of lust and wild urges, she did know that Quinton was becoming hard against her hip. His tight jeans had no room to hide his arousal. Despite her lack of experience, the woman knew there was a point in which a kiss became so much more, where you crossed the line from an expression of affection to all out foreplay. They were toe to toe with that line. Even though her pulse was bounding in her ears, Regina was too shy to escalate things further. She wanted it to be Quinton’s hand that strayed first.

Blood surged through her veins. Taking a breath became nearly impossible; their tongues were too entwined. Regina knew the moment of truth was upon them and was shocked when Quinton pulled back instead of intensifying their kiss. She let out a dissatisfied moan, which brought the man back into their embrace, but only for a moment.

Still held by his arms, Regina chanced opening her eyes. She was uncertain what she might find there. Quinton was much slower to raise his lids. When he did, a strange look spread across his face.

“Wow.” It was more a sigh than a word. He released her from his hold, but snatched her hand and led her down deeper into the forest. “Let’s walk for a while.”

With her breath still short, her pulse still bounding, and her mouth now burning from the kiss, Regina could think of much better activities to engage in. Shocked, she followed. Why had he broken off like that? Had she done something wrong? Wayne always told Regina that she kissed wrong. Her husband would belittle her with the worst criticisms, like she had a tongue as limp as a dead eel, and he had gotten better action from cooked cow’s tongue. Regina desperately wanted to ask Quinton what he was thinking, but she feared the answer. Maybe it was best if she never knew. That way Regina could keep her fantasy and her pride intact.

* * *

Quinton felt Regina’s hand go limp within his own. Turning, he found her frowning. He knew that she was most likely confused and upset by his abrupt cessation of the kiss. Desperately, Quinton wanted to explain to her why, but his reasons were so numerous and convoluted that not even he could figure it out for himself.

First and foremost, this was all happening way too fast. Quinton had mistakenly assumed that Regina would be the one to slow the pace. He had thought that the meek-looking woman would have shunned his more forward advances. Instead, Regina had not only met his passion, but she had done a damn good job of fueling it. Upon his body’s urging, Quinton was ready to start ripping clothes off. While there was a time and place for that type of intercourse, Quinton did not want their first time to be like that. He had realized that in the throes of passion, he did not want this to be a one-night stand. Quinton wanted neither one of them to have any regrets. Which brought him to the point of confusion he was in now.