CHAPTER EIGHT
He found her asleep, leaning back against the trunk of a tall pine, her pony, not picketed, standing beside her. Releasing the reins of his own mount, he bent down and squatted by her side. Taking a lock of her whitish-blonde hair, he curled it around one of his fingers, enjoying the beauty of its color, as well as its silky feel; it was as though her hair, as well as the woman, herself, possessed the magic of love.
Letting go of the strand, he leaned in toward her, bending over her to inhale the fragrance of her balmy, but sweet feminine scent, ignoring his own hard and masculine response to it. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her eyes and lastly her lips. When she moaned, he kissed her lips again, gently, barely touching his lips to hers.
"First Rider?" she whispered.
"It is I," he murmured.
"Hmmm," she mumbled. Slowly she opened her eyes. "Thou hast found me."
Her voice, soft and husky, caused a minor explosion within him, and blood rushed swiftly through him. In order to quell his response to her, he shut his eyes, remembering all those years ago and how she had followed him throughout the Pikuni encampment. Meekly, rarely speaking and never drawing attention to herself, she had simply been there underfoot.
He had never protested her company, though there were some in camp who had teased him about his little "pet." But, he had recognized his spiritual connection to her. Truly, he hadlooked upon her with the same sort of affection a man might feel toward his sister.
All those years ago, because their age difference wasn't too great, he had realized she might have felt the spiritual connection between them to be romantic in nature, but he had not encouraged her in this belief, making it plain to her and to one and all that his heart belonged to Tsistsaki.
No, four winters ago, their friendship had never been romantic nor sexual, and she had posed no competition in his heart, which had already been given to Tsistsaki.
But, had he been mistaken?
Back then, had he misidentified his true feelings for Otahki? Or, was his passion toward her now simply because he had, once again, a woman in his life?
But, did the past really matter? He wished to make her his woman now and spend the rest of his life with her. Perhaps it made little difference whether or not he had always loved her.
Leaning down toward her, he caressed her cheek, then kissed her again and murmured, "Horses…will…I…see to them. You rest."
"No, where thou be goin', there, too, I be goin'." She spoke the words softly, but there was a firmness in her tone of voice that clearly communicated her intent, and he knew she was not to be easily dissuaded.
"But…why?" he asked.
"Because," she answered, her voice soft, barely over a whisper. "If there be anything happenin' to thee, then I wish it to be happenin' to me, too. What thou faces, I, too, will face."
He grinned at her. "You…bring…me great honor. Yet, see me…you will…from where you sit. Standing…I…will be….over there." He pointed. "Will you rest? Far…I will not be."
She frowned and didn't answer his question right away. But, at last, she said, "Oh, I be supposin' this be all right."
He smiled, then bent again toward her and kissed her forehead. "We talk…when I come back. But, now will see to horses."
She nodded, then closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
****
Liliann awoke with a start. How could she have gone to sleep? Where was she? And, where was First Rider?
She tried to arise, but then she became aware she could not. What was she leaning against, there at her backside? It wasn't the trunk of a pine tree. It was hard, yes, but…
Inhaling, she felt something pulling at her waist, and, looking down, she noted there were buckskin-clad arms holding her at her waist and on each side of her legs were the tannish-colored leggings and the moccasins that she knew belonged to First Rider. She would know those moccasins on sight, since all those years ago she had been the one to make them for him.
Sighing, she leaned back farther into First Rider's embrace, and with every breath she took, his enticing musky scent reached out to her; it was like an elixir to her fragmented nerves. She wiggled up close to him, loving the feel of his body against hers.
She felt his breath on her ear as he whispered, "Have…care. Already you…I wish make love. Would not take…much…your part."
"Oh?" She wiggled again, this time moving her derriere backward, coming in closer to him, relishing the feel of the hard essence of his passion there upon her backside.
"Be still!" The words were whispered. "Now…not right place…or time."
"But—"
