Reckless Desire (30 page)

It was like taking a step back in time. Night Owl took Cloud Walker’s hand in his and made a shallow incision in the palm of his right hand. Then, taking Mary’s hand, he made a similar incision in her palm. His wrinkled face was grave as he joined their hands together. Solemnly he gazed from Mary to Cloud Walker, his deep-set black eyes as old as time.

“Now your blood runs together,” he said in a quiet voice. “You are now two people, but one blood. What happens to one, happens to the other. When one feels joy, both will share it. When one feels pain, the other will know it. You will be a help to each other, nevermore to be alone, nevermore to be alone. Be kind to each other, and always remember that Maheo is with you.”

Standing beside Shadow, I felt as if my own marriage vows had been renewed. As Cloud Walker tenderly kissed Mary, Shadow kissed me. And then Hawk kissed Victoria. We all laughed, our hearts filling with joy for the first time in weeks, as Jacob turned to Jason and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

Mary and Cloud Walker moved into the lodge behind our house so they could have a place of their own. I was sorry that Mary could not have a big wedding and a home of her own, but such a thing was out of the question until the matter of Frank’s death was resolved.

Mary was suddenly, unaccountably shy as she followed Cloud Walker into the lodge. She watched as he touched a match to the kindling laid in the fire pit, and doubts began to fill her mind. What if this marriage didn’t work either? She had been so sure she loved Frank, and look how that had turned out.

But then Cloud Walker came toward her, his dark eyes filled with tenderness, and all her misgivings vanished like smoke in a high wind. She must put the past and its tragedies behind her. Her heart swelled with such love it was almost painful as he took her in his arms and kissed her gently.

“Mary,” he said huskily. “I cannot believe you are truly mine.”

“Believe it,” she whispered, and drawing his head down, she pressed her lips to his. A warm sense of belonging washed over her as her heart assured her that this was right. She didn’t need a big wedding and a fancy dress, didn’t need a white cake and champagne. Cloud Walker was her husband now. Her child would be born to its true father.

How tenderly they made love that night, heart speaking to heart and soul to soul. Mary let her eyes and hands roam over each precious inch of Cloud Walker’s flesh, reveling in what she saw and felt, telling herself again and again that he was hers now, hers forever.

“I love you,” Mary whispered.

“
Ne-mehotatse
,” Cloud Walker replied, repeating the words in the Cheyenne tongue, and Mary was certain she had never heard a more beautiful phrase in all her life.

“
Ne-mehotatse
,” she murmured tremulously, and Cloud Walker’s smile warmed her to her soul. “I’ll try to be a good wife,” she promised.

“You are already a good wife,” Cloud Walker said, nuzzling her breast.

“Is this all it takes to make you happy?” Mary teased.

Cloud Walker nodded, his hands stroking her hips and thighs as his tongue tickled her ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Mary vowed. “When the house is dirty and the kids are underfoot and there’s no supper on the table, I’ll just take you to bed and you’ll have no complaints coming.”

“Just one,” Cloud Walker said, grinning. “You talk too much.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” he said, and silenced her with a kiss.

He wanted her. Mary could feel the need in the tautness of his muscles, in the rasp of his breathing, in the press of his manhood against her belly. His desire sparked her own and she drew him close, her hands roaming over his flesh, her nails raking his back and shoulders as he possessed her. They moved together rhythmically, gracefully, like dancers, and Mary moaned softly as her own need for fulfillment soared upward. She strained toward him, feeling as though she would die if he did not give her that which she sought, and then it came, that sweet, sweet release that was so satisfying, so fleeting.

She closed her eyes, sighing with contentment as Cloud Walker shuddered convulsively, then lay still, his head pillowed on her shoulder.

For a time they did not move, then Cloud Walker rolled onto his side, taking Mary with him. She was soon asleep, but he remained awake for a long time, his face buried in the wealth of her hair, his hand cupping her breast. She was his wife now, his woman, and he would live and die for her.

Later, lying there beside her, he felt his child stir beneath his hand.

His child. Closing his eyes, he offered a silent prayer to Man Above, beseeching Him to bless the child with health and strength. And then, remembering Katherine and his own dead son, he prayed that the child might be blessed with a long and happy life.

I sat in the tub relaxing, my thoughts reliving Mary’s wedding the night before. Mary had made a lovely bride, despite the hint of sadness that remained in her eyes. I understood the pain she felt at Katherine’s loss. It was a hurt that would not heal quickly.

I was thinking of leaving the warmth of the tub when Shadow entered the room. I could feel him watching me and I was suddenly glad that Blackie had gone to spend the night with Hawk. Through the veil of my lashes I watched my husband pace back and forth, his eyes lingering on my water-covered body as I reclined in the tub.

I smiled as I saw the rising evidence of his desire. It wouldn’t be long now, I mused with happy anticipation, and indeed, in a matter of moments Shadow had shucked his clothes and joined me in the bathtub. It was a tight fit, but we managed, and we spent a few pleasant moments cuddling in the tub.

“I pray Mary will find happiness now,” I remarked.

Shadow nodded, his eyes wandering over my submerged flesh.

“I’m glad she’s home again,” I went on. “I like having our children close by.”

“I like having you close by,” Shadow remarked, and we began splashing each other. I was brushing my hair out of my face when I saw it, a single gray strand among the red.

“What is it?” Shadow asked, seeing my distressed expression.

“I’m getting old,” I lamented. “Look. A gray hair.”

Shadow started to laugh, but then, seeing that I was truly upset, he wrapped his arms around me instead.

“You will never be old, Hannah,” he said sincerely. “You are young in spirit and young in heart. A gray hair cannot change that.”

“But I don’t want to get old,” I said sadly. “I want to stay young and thin. I don’t want you to be married to a wrinkled old crone with gray hair and sagging breasts.”

“What of me?” Shadow asked, amused. “Do you think I am not growing older?”

“You don’t look any older to me,” I said, studying his face critically. “You’re still tall and strong and handsome. Your hair is still black as sin. You hardly have a wrinkle. Oh, it isn’t fair! Why do men get better looking as they get older? Women just get ugly and fat!”

He was laughing at me now, his dark eyes twinkling merrily. In spite of my protests, he dunked my head under the water to rinse the soap out, then lifted me from the tub and carried me dripping wet to our bedroom. For a moment he held me above the mattress; then, grinning roguishly, he dropped me. I landed on my back, my wet hair spraying water across the bedspread.

Still laughing, Shadow dropped down on top of me.

“What are you doing?” I asked irritably. “I turned to you for sympathy and you laugh at me.”

“I am going to make love to you,” Shadow said, his eyes glowing with amusement. “I am going to make love to you now, before you turn into a wrinkled old hag right before my eyes.”

“And will you still make love to me when I’m a wrinkled old hag?”

“Yes,” Shadow said gravely. “But I will close my eyes.”

“Oh, you!” Grabbing a pillow from behind my head, I began to hit him with it. We tusseled on the bed for several minutes, wet flesh sliding deliciously against wet flesh as we wrestled in wild abandon. Then Shadow took my face in his hands and his mouth slanted across mine and all thought of fighting left my mind.

“Hannah, my sweet Hannah,” Shadow murmured in my ear. “I will always love you. Skinny or fat, gray-headed or bald, young or old, you are my life, my heart. I cannot live without you.” Drawing back a little, he gazed down at me, his beautiful black eyes warm and loving. “I want to grow old with you, to share every day that Maheo grants us.”

I blinked back my tears as Shadow lowered his head toward mine and kissed me again, a kiss filled with love and promise that would last forever. I never worried about getting old again.

Mary knelt beside her daughter’s grave, carefully arranging a bouquet of flowers. It was still hard to believe that Katherine lay sleeping in the ground, hard to accept the fact that her little girl was dead. She smiled through a mist of tears as she felt Cloud Walker’s child stir within her womb, and her arms ached with the need to hold a baby again.

Sitting there, she bowed her head and prayed that this child would be strong and healthy. More than anything, she longed to give Cloud Walker a son. He rarely spoke of the little boy who had died, but she knew that the hurt had not healed completely. Perhaps this new child would help them both.

She knew he was there even before he spoke. It didn’t seem at all strange that she could sense his presence. He was a part of her, after all.

“I am going into town,” Cloud Walker said, squatting down on his heels beside her. “Come with me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You cannot hide forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” Mary replied defensively. But, of course, she was. She was hiding from gossip and prying eyes. The townspeople’s curiosity had been merciless ever since she’d returned from Chicago.

“We will have to face them sooner or later.”

“Can’t it wait until later?”

“No. I am not ashamed of our love.”

Mary placed her hand in his. “Let’s go and face them, then,” she said, smiling bravely.

Mary was conscious of being stared at as they drove into town. Without being aware of it, she sat up a little straighter and placed her hand on Cloud Walker’s arm.

It was Saturday and the streets were crowded with men, women and children who had come to town to shop and visit. There were half a dozen women gathered on the porch in front of the mercantile store and they all turned to stare at Mary and Cloud Walker as they drove by.

Cloud Walker drew the buggy to a halt at the feed store. “I will not be long,” he said, then frowned as Mary alighted from the buggy. “Where are you going?”

“I need a few things from the mercantile store,” Mary said. Head high, she marched down the street. She could hear the women talking about her as she climbed the stairs.

“Some nerve, coming to town.”

“Left her husband for that Indian.”

“I wonder who the father of that baby—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Mary said loudly. She looked each of them in the eye. All the town’s biggest gossips were present.

“Good afternoon,” Ramona Claxton said stiffly, and the other ladies nodded in Mary’s direction.

“Lovely day,” Mary said.

“Yes, lovely,” Donna Durning agreed.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your remarks,” Mary said, her mild tone belying the anger raging in her breast. “And since you’re all determined to talk about me, I think you should know what you’re talking about.”

The women glanced at each other, their faces flushed with embarrassment. It was good to see them squirm, Mary thought uncharitably.

“In the first place,” Mary went on boldly, “my marriage to Frank Smythe was a failure long before I met Cloud Walker. I don’t wish to speak ill of Frank, but suffice it to say I had good and just cause for leaving him. You may believe it or not, but I tried very hard to make my marriage work, and I failed.” Mary lifted her head a little higher. “I love Cloud Walker. He’s a brave and honorable man. We have the same blood, the same heritage. I’m proud to be his woman, and proud to be carrying his child.” She had not thought to let that slip, Mary thought in dismay, but it was out now. She granted them a cloying smile. “I know you’ll be kind enough to tell everyone in town what I’ve said. Good day.”

And with that, she swept past them into the store.

“Well, I never!” Donna Durning exclaimed.

“I think we’ve misjudged her,” Muriel Harding remarked. “None of us know Mary very well, yet we were all willing to believe the worst.”

“Nonsense,” Carol Wilke retorted. “You heard her. She’s carrying that Indian’s child.”

“He is terribly handsome,” Muriel Harding mused. “Well, he is!” she insisted as the other women gaped at her.

“He’s an Indian, Muriel,” Ramona Clayton said derisively. “An Indian!”

“And here he comes,” Carol Wilke said, lowering her voice.

Cloud Walker glanced up at the women standing on the porch and knew immediately that they had been talking about him. A guilty flush stained their cheeks, and they refused to meet his eyes. The thought of being the center of their gossip stirred his anger, and then he shrugged. You couldn’t change human nature. People always feared or belittled what they didn’t understand.

He flashed them his most beguiling smile. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said politely.

“Good afternoon,” they chorused, and muttering hasty farewells to one another, they scattered like chickens before a fox.

Cloud Walker was laughing when Mary joined him. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”

“People,” he said, lifting her into the buggy. “People can be very funny.”

Mary frowned and then felt her cheeks grow hot as Cloud Walker kissed her soundly, right there in front of the mercantile store and about two dozen witnesses.

“That will give them all something to talk about,” he said, and jumped into the buggy beside her.

They were smiling when they drove out of town.

The next day there was an item in the paper that gave the gossips still more to talk about. The story stated that Frank Smythe, prominent Chicago businessman, had been missing from his home for several weeks. There was speculation that he had left on a mysterious business trip, as well as the hint of foul play.