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He would protect her, but he could not make love to her? And yet the very thought stirred something inside him. He must not think on it. It would do no good. Still, he wrested with the thought most of the night.
But how can I erase the memory of her kisses?
Chapter Six
The next morning though, Moon was running a fever. She saw the sweat dripping off his cheek and took the small canteen they had shared and wet a piece of her slip with it, then patted his face with the wet rag. Her eyes fell on the wound, which was puckered and oozing. It was swelling badly and very infected. She was afraid to touch the wound, she didn't want to contaminate it further.
As she looked into his face a feeling swept over her, more powerful than anything she'd ever experienced. The closeness she felt for this man, this Indian man, overpowered her. She realized he was the lifeline of her life at this moment. Everything depended on how they got through this ordeal together.
He had saved her from a fate she had feared for some time and admitting that, made her face a reality. Why had he protected her from Earl? Why had he let her follow him? Why had he kissed her so tenderly? And how could she possibly fall in love with an Indian? But that was the problem, she didn't see him as an Indian, she saw him as a man, a good man.
His arm was much worse than he had said. The infection was festering. They had to get to Jack's quickly.
She dabbed his face and smiled at him.
He was mumbling and none of it made any sense. She kept dabbing his face and chest with the rag, her heart seemed to skitter when her hands went to his chest, but she had to cool him down. He was so hot. She went to the small stream they had camped by and refilled the canteens. The crickets and grasshoppers were busy and buzzing about. She heard a frog and saw him from a rock in the water. After eating some jerky, she laid Moon's head in her lap and dabbed him with the rag every so often. As she dabbed his chest her eyes and hands landed against his nipple and she tingled from the hard nub of it as her hand fell against it. A strange and wonderous excitement surged through her mind. She tried to force her thoughts away, but it stirred her awareness. She couldn't tear her gaze from his chest as unwanted sensations crowded her better thinking. Her finger throbbed against his nipple. Her pulse quickened. Her eyes widened. She tried to move her finger away, but it wouldn't budge. It was an innocent gesture or was it? Just the tip of her finger had touched him there, but it was erotic somehow how, the nipple hardened at her touch. She'd never touched a man like this. But the curiosity of it, and the fact that he was feverish, he'd never know. She put the rag down and touched it once more, deliberately just barely grazing the tip of his nipple with her fingertip. It hardened instantly from her touch, and something inside her sparked. Even in his sleep, his body responded to her touch. She ached to explore him, she'd never been with a man before and this feeling took over better sense. Her hands traveled his entire chest, feeling the silkiness of him. It was a strange sensation to her, but wonderful too, and she sighed happily as her hands glided over him there. There wasn't a trace of hair on his chest, but it was warm, hard and silky to the touch. She absorbed the sensations of touching him. A light film of sweat peppered his body. But suddenly she heard a noise and she jumped. She swallowed hard when she saw it was only a squirrel jumping up a tree trunk.
She was guilty of touching him! My God, what had she been thinking? She'd never done such a thing in her life.
Still, her eyes strayed lower, to his breechcloth. She swallowed hard. Never had she looked upon a man like this. She could see part of his hip and all of his thigh. It was tan and lean and hard looking. He had beautiful skin. Just looking upon him like that made her weak. She'd never stared at a man's body before, especially one she could see part of. His skin was gloriously tan, and silky looking. My God, I'm twenty-two years old and never touched or looked at a man so! I have so much to learn about life. But why does this man intrigue me so? No, it wasn't entirely physical, she knew that. He was a kind man, gentle, and his fierce protection of her endeared him to her. Even though she couldn't really talk about it with him.
Perhaps she was evil. Perhaps killing a man so easily had made her evil. But the feelings of looking at him didn't feel evil. She had no evil purpose. It was simply an exploration of the male body, she told herself. Yet why did her heart hammer so loudly when she looked at him so? Why did the urge to kiss him tempt her? She looked at his lips. Soft, sweet tasting lips that moved instinctively against hers when they kissed. Didn't she after all this time have a right to know of these things? At twenty-two she had only a few kisses to go by. Her mind wandered. What would it be like to touch a man everywhere and make love? The sensation of touching his nipple, of it hardening against the tips of her finger, sent many different feeling through her. She'd probably never get to do this again in her lifetime. She'd probably never know what making love felt like, but just that small wonderous feeling she got from touching him there, made her realize that she was very normal, that she had urges just like any other woman, whether she was an old-maid or not.
She wanted to laugh at herself, for being so foolish, but she couldn't. She'd never forget that small tiny touch when her body responded to his
, and in turn, his to her, even in a fever!
The human body was a wonder! The human heart even more so!
When he woke up, he would not remember anything, but she would cherish this memory forever.
And why not, she'd probably never make love with a man, marry, or have children. It would be a secret she'd carry forever. She saw no future in her life. She was a fugitive. But that wasn't the only reason. Men were physically drawn to her, but she talked way too much, and she was over-educated than most.
She quickly reasoned that at her age, she had every right to wonder about such things. Even her best friend had called her an old-maid. Most women her age were married with several children. Out here in the west women married fairly early, most by the time they were eighteen. But life was certainly passing her by. She had no husband, no prospect of a husband, and certainly no children.
To have some experiences in life was better than none, she reasoned.
Then her eyes drifted over him, all of him. It wasn't just an experience, she knew that. It was Moon! She liked him, maybe too much for a white woman to ever admit. But the feeling in her heart told her, she could do nothing about it.
It was no compliment to be called an old maid. She didn't feel old, just terribly inexperienced. That thought had dominated her for some time. Had she merely wanted to touch and experiment, she could have done it with Earl. But Earl would have taken it to a level she wasn't ready for. She knew she couldn't have done this with Earl. Why was this Indian the one she chose to look at, to touch? Perhaps because there was no future in it. Perhaps because he was a fugitive too. Yes, that was it! They were in this together and whether they admitted it or not, they were bound to each other.
She still felt young and vibrant, and yet ignorant on the subject of sex or even love. At her age she shouldn't be totally ignorant. It was embarrassing being so shy about something she should know. Being a teacher, she should have all the answers. She knew human anatomy, from her science books. But first hand, she was a greenhorn. Oh, she'd seen animals do it. She knew a little, but just thinking on it, made her blush. And yet, when Moon kissed her, her response was completely natural. She didn't think about her inexperience, she responded to him. Is that what it was all about, giving back what was given?
When her mother died, she had shut out all thoughts of love. It was too painful. She knew then she could never love as to lose another loved one might kill her.
Now, Moon had opened up possibilities for her. Loving Moon would be difficult if not impossible. And yet he was the only man in all her lifetime to open her closed heart. He had opened it with a kiss, and instead of ignoring that one kiss, he gave her another. No man had done that but Earl, but Earl's kisses did nothing for her. Earl's kisses were not the same, in any way. He came at her with pure lust. Moon came at her with his heart and stole it with a kiss.
Dear God, she was falling in love with Moon!
She was learning, and at Moon's expense, which wasn't fair, she supposed.
And she was curious. Curious why when she looked at his thigh, she wanted to touch him there too. Curious why their kisses inflamed her insides. Curious why she wanted more. And what would more feel like? His kisses were wonderful, she wanted more of them. But she could only go so far with her curiosity.
If even Moon rejected her, she might just curl up and die.
All these feelings closing in on her never happened with Earl. Why this man, why an Indian. But then she counted him as a man and not just an Indian. She'd always kept her heart closed to opportunities with men. But Moon appealed to her in so many ways. She loved the bronze of his skin, the white of his teeth, the sleek, shining beauty of his black hair. Even his male scent was earthy and clean. She loved the strength in his arms, the way he held her when he kissed her. Even so, it wasn't all physical either. She enjoyed talking to him. She found very few men that would sit down and carry on an intelligent conversation with. In fact, she tended to bore most men, as not many listened to her rattling's.
The fact that Moon relented in letting her come with him, endeared him to her too. She trusted him, and it stunned her, but she felt safe with Moon. And being safe was something she had come to cherish.
