Wild Rapture

Then there appeared on the skyline just to the left of where Mariah and Echohawk crouched, watching . . . waiting, the massive head of a long-horned buffalo, then the hump, then the whole beast, huge and black against the sky, standing to a height of seven feet at the hump, with horns that extended six feet across the shaggy crown. For a moment it was poised there; then it lumbered obliquely down the bank to the river.

Still Echohawk and Mariah did not move, though the huge beast was now only a few steps upwind. There was no sign of what was about to happen.

The buffalo meandered.

Mariah and Echohawk were frozen in anticipation.

Then, as Mariah watched in awe, the scene exploded.

In one and the same instant Echohawk sprang to his feet and bolted forward, his arm cocked, the spear held high.

The huge animal lunged in panic, bellowing. Its whole weight was thrown violently into the bank, its hooves churning and chipping earth into the air. Its eyes were wide, wild, and white.

Its awful frenzy caused it to become mired and helpless in its fear.

Echohawk hurled the spear with his whole strength, and the point was driven into the deep, vital flesh of the buffalo. The animal, in its agony, staggered, crashed down, and was dead.

Mariah was stunned silent by the performance, her eyes glued to the animal. Then her awe of Echohawk was so intense, she moved her gaze to him and her insides quavered with a giddy warmth as he stood over the animal, his chest swelled with pride.

Scrambling to her feet, Mariah went to Echohawk and lunged into his arms. “You did it,” she murmured. “Oh, Echohawk, you did it!”

Then she leaned away from him. “I knew that you could,” she said, smiling sheepishly up at him.

Echohawk chuckled, knowing that her pretense was too obvious, but understanding why. He drew her close and gave her a soft kiss. “Before taking the largest portion of the beast back to my people, we shall have a private feast ourselves,” he said. “But we must wait until the other buffalo wander onward.”

Mariah gazed down at the buffalo, then back up at Echohawk. “My, but he is huge,” she murmured.

“A beast his size feeds many mouths on a cold winter’s day in our village,” he said reverently. But these animals are dwindling in number because of the arrival of the white man. It is impossible to understand how they can kill without reason.”

Mariah sighed heavily, again reminded of her father’s slaughters. Then she forced such thoughts aside. She was no longer a part of that life. She gazed up at Echohawk, wishing that she had half his courage. If she did, she would confess so many things to him.

* * *

Mariah sat comfortably on thick pelts beneath the lean-to that Echohawk had fashioned from a blanket, having attached it to the side of a cliff that he and Mariah had found close to the ravine. He had collected a dozen large stones and laid them across the spot chosen for a fire. The fire had been quickly kindled, and over it cooked a steak cut from the yet-warm flank of the animal he had slain. While the steak was cooking, Echohawk cuddled Mariah close to his side and sang to her.

Enraptured, warmed not only by the campfire but also by Echohawk’s strong arms around her, Mariah listened as he sang of his homeland, of the flowers, birds and animals he’d known and loved all his life. His songs were of the wild wind, which he called a good old man, and of the sweet little bluebells of the forest. He sang to a bird he called Little Black Breast and to the buffalo his people revered. It was a time of wondrous peace and love, undisturbed by thoughts that could destroy the moment.

And when his last song had faded into the wind, Echohawk eased Mariah downward, her back pressing into the soft pelts spread beneath her. “My woman, let us stay here forever,” Echohawk said huskily, smoothing Mariah’s dress down from her shoulders, freeing her breasts. “Let us pretend there are no worries, no sorrows, no tomorrows filled with bitternesses. There is only us, only today. . . .”

Mariah sucked in a breath of wild ecstasy and closed her eyes when he leaned over her and covered the nipple of one of her breasts with his mouth. He teased its taut peak, his hands roaming her body.

Her head spinning, she was hardly aware of how they became fully unclothed, or that the day was dimming, a heavy chill slicing the air. All she knew was that Echohawk had moved his body over hers, molding himself perfectly to the curved hollow of her hips.

She stifled a sob against his muscled shoulder as he pressed gently into her, then began moving within her in a steady rhythm. She lifted her hips to him, taking him even more deeply, and rocked and swayed with him.

She locked her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to her lips. She trembled with passion as he kissed her long and hard, his hands at her breasts, softly kneading them.

Caught in passion’s embrace, she felt her entire body responding to his loving her, all of her senses yearning for the promise he offered.

Gasps echoed like thunder throughout her when again his lips moved to her breast, sucking on her nipple until it throbbed. She thrust her pelvis toward him, now only half-aware of making whimpering sounds, and then a surge of ecstasy raged and washed over her, and she again reached the ultimate experience a man and a woman can share.

Echohawk had been holding his own pleasure back, wanting it to linger until he was near the bursting point. He smiled to himself when he sensed her intense pleasure, glad that again he had been able to pull her into that realm of sheer bliss.

Breathing hard, his loins on fire, Echohawk withdrew from inside Mariah and moved into another position that she was not familiar with, yet she knew that she had much to learn—and Echohawk seemed to be the most masterful teacher!

Echohawk stretched out on his back and very gently moved Mariah so that her face was only a heartbeat away from his throbbing hardness. Placing his hands on each side of her face, he urged her lips to him.

Mariah recoiled at the thought of what he seem