Savage Illusions

"Should you be put thro­ugh the test and smo­ke the pi­pe, ever­yo­ne wo­uld be­li­eve that what you ha­ve sa­id abo­ut Two Rid­ges' de­ath was true," Jole­na sa­id, her eyes in­no­cently wi­de. "So I see no prob­lem."

"The prob­lem is that I wo­uld know that I was lying and at such a so­lemn, sac­red ti­me as that, I wo­uld not be ab­le to lie abo­ut the lie," he sa­id so­lemnly.

Jolena nod­ded, un­der­s­tan­ding, and kno­wing that no mat­ter how she felt abo­ut Two Rid­ges, she must do what she must, to ke­ep Spot­ted Eag­le from be­ing put in any aw­k­ward po­si­ti­on.

"I will do as my Blac­k­fo­ot fat­her wants," she mur­mu­red. "I will pre­pa­re Two Rid­ges for bu­ri­al."

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Let us ha­ve no mo­re talk abo­ut that which bur­dens our he­arts," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, his ga­ze mo­ving slowly over her. "Let us spe­ak of things that will ma­ke us smi­le."

"Yes, let's," Jole­na sa­id, her he­art ham­me­ring wildly as she felt the he­at of Spot­ted Eag­le's eyes mo­ving over her, se­e­ing her for the first ti­me in In­di­an at­ti­re. She co­uld tell by the gen­t­le­ness in his eyes and the slow smi­le qu­ave­ring on his lips that he ap­pro­ved of this chan­ge that had co­me over her in his ab­sen­ce.

Smoothing a hand down the front of her do­es­kin smock, she smi­led up at Spot­ted Eag­le. "Is it not a be­a­uti­ful dress?" she sa­id softly. "I so lo­ve it."

"Its lo­ve­li­ness is en­han­ced by the wo­man we­aring it," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, his lo­ins be­co­ming hot with ne­ed of her as he ga­zed in­to Jole­na's eyes. "In Blac­k­fo­ot at­ti­re, you are even mo­re be­a­uti­ful than when you are we­aring clot­hes of the whi­te wo­men."

He re­ac­hed a hand to her ha­ir and twi­ned his fin­gers thro­ugh it, tug­ging her clo­ser to him. "But, my wo­man, you are even mo­re be­a­uti­ful when you ha­ve not­hing on. Shall I… dis­ro­be you? Or wo­uld you rat­her do it yo­ur­self?"

Jolena's thro­at was gro­wing dry as the ex­ci­te­ment of the mo­ment bu­ilt, yet she he­si­ta­ted to fol­low him in­to this sen­su­al ban­te­ring.

"Should we?" she sa­id we­akly. "Is this a pro­per ti­me?"

"Time is pre­ci­o­us, yet fle­eting," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, his hand cup­ping her bre­ast thro­ugh the soft fab­ric of her smock. "Ne­ver sho­uld we was­te a mo­ment of our ti­me to­get­her. Who knows of to­mor­row? To­night we are to­get­her. Let us use the mo­ment in the way we both de­si­re."

"I so badly want to," Jole­na sa­id, her bre­ath cat­c­hing in her thro­at when Spot­ted Eag­le le­aned a soft, qu­ave­ring kiss to her lips, si­len­cing her every do­ubt, brin­ging forth wit­hin her wa­ves of rap­tu­re that be­gan cres­ting, as tho­ugh her pas­si­on we­re a ti­de fol­lo­wing the com­mand of the mo­on.

As he lo­we­red her in­to the buf­fa­lo ro­bes that lay on the flo­or be­si­de the fi­re, she we­ake­ned with pas­si­on as his kis­ses be­ca­me mo­re de­man­ding, his hands trem­b­ling as they dis­ro­bed her.

When even Spot­ted Eag­le's clot­hes we­re tos­sed asi­de, and Jole­na felt his we­ight pres­sing on her body, she spre­ad her legs and wel­co­med him as he qu­ickly and mag­ni­fi­cently fil­led her.

Smothered with fe­elings that we­re over­w­hel­ming her, Jole­na thras­hed her he­ad back and forth as Spot­ted Eag­le's thrusts wit­hin her be­ca­me rhythmi­cal­ly fast, his lips mo­ving from one of her bre­asts to the ot­her.

Then he rol­led away from her. The­ir hands be­gan mo­ving on each ot­her's bo­di­es, and they met each ot­her, to­uch by pre­ci­o­us to­uch.

Jolena suc­ked in a wild bre­ath of rap­tu­re when Spot­ted Eag­le la­id his hand over the fronds of black curls at the jun­c­tu­re of her thighs, then thrust a fin­ger in­si­de her.

She then so­ught out his throb­bing har­d­ness and when she fo­und it, she be­gan mo­ving her fin­gers over him, smi­ling as his body trem­b­led with ple­asu­re. As he stro­ked her, she con­ti­nu­ed mo­ving her fin­gers over him.

Then Spot­ted Eag­le mo­ved over her aga­in and in one de­ep thrust had him­self de­eply in­si­de her aga­in. He en­w­rap­ped her wit­hin his po­wer­ful arms and pla­ced his che­ek to hers. "I wo­uld be an empty shell wit­ho­ut you," he whis­pe­red. "But whi­le we we­re se­pa­ra­ted, I did not ha­ve to to­uch you to fe­el you in my mind."

"My dar­ling, I carry you with me al­ways wit­hin my he­art," Jole­na whis­pe­red back, mo­ving her hips with him, pul­ling him mo­re de­eply wit­hin her as she loc­ked her legs aro­und him. "I lo­ve you so."

"I will pay yo­ur fat­her a gre­at bri­de pri­ce," Spot­ted Eag­le sa­id, kis­sing his way down to her bre­asts. He flic­ked his ton­gue aro­und a nip­ple, dra­wing a gut­tu­ral sigh of ple­asu­re from de­eply wit­hin Jole­na. "We will marry so­on."

For a mo­ment Jole­na was ca­ta­pul­ted back to anot­her ti­me and anot­her fat­her. Bryce Ed­monds had spo­ken of­ten of how be­a­uti­ful a bri­de Jole­na wo­uld be in a dress of whi­te aga­inst her cop­per skin. He had al­ways co­un­ted on the day that he wo­uld ha­ve the ho­nor of gi­ving her away in a be­a­uti­ful mar­ri­age ce­re­mony in the­ir church.

She had to won­der how he wo­uld re­act when he saw this dre­am shat­te­red. She knew that he was not well eno­ugh to wit­h­s­tand the ri­ver­bo­at ri­de to the Mon­ta­na Ter­ri­tory, and she knew that it wo­uld be as­king the im­pos­sib­le of Spot­ted Eag­le to go with her to Sa­int Lo­u­is to be mar­ri­ed.

He wo­uld re­mind her that she was Blac­k­fo­ot and must be mar­ri­ed in the Blac­k­fo­ot tra­di­ti­on. And she wo­uld ag­ree wit­ho­ut fur­t­her tho­ught. She had be­en de­ni­ed too many Blac­k­fo­ot tra­di­ti­ons as she was gro­wing up in a whi­te com­mu­nity.

Now she wan­ted to ab­sorb each and every one of them wit­hin her he­art so that she co­uld even­tu­al­ly not even think abo­ut the ti­me when she was for­ced to fol­low the ro­ad of the whi­te pe­op­le in­s­te­ad of her own true pe­op­le!

Spotted Eag­le sen­sed that Jole­na's he­art was no lon­ger in the­ir lo­ve­ma­king. He pa­used and le­aned away from her so that the­ir eyes co­uld me­et and hold. He pla­ced a gen­t­le hand to her che­ek.

"What is tro­ub­ling you?" he sa­id softly. "Ne­ver ha­ve you be­fo­re be­en in two se­pa­ra­te pla­ces whi­le we we­re ma­king lo­ve. Whe­re has yo­ur mind ta­ken you? S

hall mi­ne fol­low and jo­in you, to sha­re with you that which is ta­king you from me?"