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"I've missed you," he murmured. He removed her chemise and drawers, and then warmed her cool skin with fevered kisses. He could count her ribs easily, and feared she might not have survived many more days without him. "You were never meant to be alone," he swore. "You were born to be mine."
Lost in a dreamlike wonder, Alanna held him in a languid embrace. She loosened his hair and pressed his face close, as he suckled at her breast. As always, his slightest touch filled her with joy, and she soon felt as though her heart might burst with happiness.
Meaning to at last thoroughly quench his desires, Hunter ran his hand over her hip and down her thigh, but when she flinched, he sat up to see what was wrong. The deep purple bruise on her knee told him. "Did you fall on the rocks? Is that how you got all wet?"
Rather than reply, Alanna ran her hand up his arm, silently encouraging him to complete what he had begun. He leaned down to kiss the bruise, and then slipped off his moccasins, so he could remove his breechclout and leggings more easily. Now nude, he again stretched out beside her and pulled her close. She was so slender, her body seemed almost to melt into his. Her skin was still cool, but gradually warmed beneath his caress.
His ebony mane fell across her breasts, and slid over her stomach as he fit the tip of his tongue into her navel. He wanted to hear her giggle, but succeeded only in drawing a small sigh of contentment from her lips. Inspired to take so much more, he again kissed her bruised knee, then licked a narrow trail up the soft incline of her inner thigh. He had pleasured her before with a delicate touch, and she did not draw away when he slid his fingers into her again.
He rubbed his cheek against her knee, deftly parting her legs, and kept up his gentle explorations. Her lithe body had an inviting perfume, and he leaned closer to savor her scent.
Nothing could stop him now; he took a firm hold of her so she could not slip away, as he dipped low to sample her taste. Rather than object, Alanna tilted her hips to encourage him to drink more deeply.
Entranced by the sweetness of her surrender, Hunter hastened to make her his own before the beauty they shared lost any of its magic. He had regained the grace to enable him to teach her what making love should be, and he hoped the inevitable pain of their initial union would be fleeting. At his first deep thrust, she clung to him rather than draw away, her anguish blurred by the ecstasy he had so tenderly nurtured.
He lost himself in that rapture now, and knowing how deeply it was shared gave him the greatest satisfaction he had ever found in a woman's arms. The bond forged between them by sorrow was now tempered by passion's flames, and for a brief instant they were truly one. It wasn't until much later that the contrast between Alanna's small white hand and his deeply bronzed chest prompted him to remember how different they truly were.
Chapter 22
Not wanting Alanna to become chilled after he had gone to such exquisite lengths to warm her, Hunter slipped his buckskin shirt over her head, before donning his breechclout and leggings. He then pulled her back into his arms and gave her an exuberant hug. "I know you want to go home, but we need time to be alone together. Let's stay here a few more days."
Alanna wasn't sure whether or not his suggestion required her approval, but she did not even want to think about standing up, let alone beginning the trip back to Virginia. She snuggled against him, enjoying both the softness of his shirt and the smoothness of his bare chest. In a thoughtful mood, she made a prediction.
"I'm afraid the forest is the only place we'll ever feel at home."
Hunter sat up slightly and combed her curls off her face with his fingertips. He leaned down to nibble her earlobe playfully, before he replied, "The forest isn't the only place we can live happily. William Johnson is married to a Mohawk woman, and given his affection for the Iroquois, no one was surprised by his choice. I can name many other trappers with Indian wives. I also know Indian braves with white wives." Hunter chose not to add that most of those women had been raised with their husband's tribe, rather than with white families as Alanna had.
"There will always be people who say we don't belong together, but as long as you and I believe that we do, we needn't listen." He kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose before savoring her berry-flavored lips. "I know we belong together, don't you?"
Alanna reached up to touch his hair. Warmed by the sun, the sable strands spilled through her fingers like silken threads. "I've never felt as though I belonged with another man," she revealed hesitantly.
That was scarcely the enthusiastic vow of undying love Hunter longed to hear, but considering how distracted she had been when he had found her, he thought himself lucky that she was able to provide any kind of a coherent response. "That's because you were meant for me," he assured her, and the sweetness of her smile encouraged affection that could be conveyed without words. Slow, tender, he again made certain he pleased her, so that she would always welcome his affection.
Later, when she slept in his arms, Hunter gazed up at the clouds and tried to imagine what his life would be now that he had a wife. He would no longer be alone, which he saw as an advantage. He would not be able to come and go as he pleased, but he doubted he would want to stray with Alanna waiting for him at home. The temptation would be to take her so deep into the forest that they would inhabit a private worl
d, but he knew she needed not only him, but her own kind as well.
Recalling how she had gone out to the stable each morning, he knew she would want to own horses. The hides he had gathered were valuable, and he had saved all of his winnings from fighting. He could afford to buy her whatever she liked. Next winter, he would have a reason to work harder, and he would spend more time trapping. If Alanna did not distract him too badly. Certain that she would, he laughed to himself, as she began to stir.
"I didn't mean to wake you. Are you hungry?"
Hunter's charming smile conveyed his high spirits, and Alanna hesitated to interject her worries, but she could no longer deny them. She sat up and took a deep breath. "Yes, I am hungry, but there's something I need to ask before we look for food. I left you because I couldn't bear to hear you say such vile things about Christian. You came to find me. Does that mean you've changed your mind about raising him?"
His shirt was much too large for her, lending her the tragic air of the orphan she had once been, but her level gaze showed a determination he had to admire. She deserved an honest reply, and he gave it. "No. I came to tell you that I would sign whatever statement you wished, so that you could raise the boy, but that I wanted nothing more to do with either of you."
Unable to reconcile that dreary confession with his abundant affection, Alanna was understandably confused. "I don't recall your saying anything of the kind before you made love to me."
Hunter's stomach twisted into a hard knot of dread, for he had known he ought not to take her innocence with such an important dispute left unsettled. He had known it, and had selfishly done it anyway. Now she had every right to feel betrayed. He had put his desires before hers, or the welfare of a child. He had had such high hopes, but he had not been a good husband to her for even one day. He squared his shoulders, and tried to undo the damage he had done the lovely young woman he wanted for his wife.
"I've lived among white men for nearly ten years, and I'm ashamed of how long it took me to learn I was more often used than respected. I admired Byron and Elliott, and was proud to call them my friends, but I think now they were merely impressed with my tracking ability. I felt out of place in your home, but I was so flattered that Melissa wanted me, I didn't realize I was no more than an attractive savage, a curiosity, to her. I think now she meant only to tease me, but Christian was the result. Had she cared anything at all for me, she would have sent for me, so I could have become her husband rather than Ian.
"It's not fair of you to ask me to raise that woman's child, when she refused to name me as the father. I can't do it, not after the way she laughed at me and threatened me."
His manner bore no trace of the strident arrogance he had shown, when she and Elliott had arrived at the trading post. Instead, he was being remarkably forthright. Alanna could see how badly he had been hurt, not merely by Melissa, but also in other apparently painful dealings with whites. It was no wonder he had grown cold and suspicious, if he frequently felt others were taking advantage of him. She reached out to touch his knee.
"You're wrong about Byron and Elliott. They both valued your friendship, and were disappointed when you left so hurriedly last summer. As for Melissa, I'll make no apologies for her behavior, when clearly it was unforgivable, but Christian ought not to be punished for her mistakes."
Hunter had been too badly hurt to view his son's situation with her logic, and refused to concede the point. "What about his grandparents? What do they say?"
