Wild Rapture

* * *

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the Falls of St. Anthony. Mariah was stunned by the drama of the rushing, turbulent water as it fell headlong over the falls to the river beneath.

Looking u

p, she saw that the waterfall wasn’t terribly high, but tumbled rocks and boulders below gave the place a wild and dangerous air, churning the rapidly flowing river into a cauldron that threatened death to any who might fall into it. The river here was divided into two halves by a long, narrow island. Rising from the churning rapids, the forested island would provide the perfect sanctuary to outlaws or renegades, for it was cut off from the rest of the world. Tanner McCloud was on this island, somewhere deep within the forest.

And, perhaps, her father. . . .

They made camp, planning to attack Tanner McCloud’s encampment early the next morning. Hungry and bone-tired, Mariah welcomed this pause, and now, having eaten a delicious meal of cooked rabbit, she sat with Echohawk in a cozy lean-to beside the simmering logs of the campfire. Echohawk’s braves had fanned out from the camp to stragetic spots, keeping watch for any sudden intruders in the night.

It was nearing dusk, the air filled with a damp chill. Echohawk placed a blanket around Mariah’s shoulders and drew her next to him. He gazed down at her without his eyeglasses, seeing her clearly and wonderfully as his. Nothing would separate them again.

He knew that he would have to think through this question of her father, should he be found at Tanner McCloud’s hideout. No-din came first. If that meant having to let her father go, to keep from causing her further pain and guilt, then that was how it must be.

And perhaps because No-din was with Echohawk and his people, her father would not cause any more problems for the Chippewa. He would surely think twice before doing anything that would endanger his daughter.

“The falls are lovely yet frightening,” Mariah murmured, snuggling closer to Echohawk. “This wild and picturesque beauty is surely unequaled.”

“Many spirits abide here,” Echohawk said, looking into the distance as the tremulous laughter of a loon came wafting over the water. “Do you hear the loon? The great northern diver is restless tonight. He does not like sharing his habitat with strangers.”

“I have been told that ghosts haunt this spot,” Mariah said, trembling. “There have been many deaths in the crashing waters of the falls. I . . . I even fear having to cross them myself.”

Even now she could hear the crashing of large tree trunks as they drifted over the falls, plunging down into the chasms of the rocks, tumbling then into the foaming and roaring rapids, never to be seen again.

“Ay-uh, there have been many deaths here,” Echohawk said solemnly. “The Chippewa tell of a warrior who, in the darkness of night, was deceived by the false beacons lighted by the ancestors of his enemies and paddled his canoe into the rapids. He never came out alive. And that is only one tale. There are many more.”

“How awful,” Mariah said, gazing around her when the loon’s cries seemed closer.

“There was a song written about this warrior’s death in the rapids,” Echohawk said, turning to her. “Shall I sing it for you?”

“Please do,” Mariah said, smiling at him.

“‘The Great Spirit calls,’” he sang softly. “‘And I must go to him. The angry waters take my strength, and I must bow my head to them. No more will I sing in this life . . . but more wisely in the next.’”

Echohawk took Mariah’s waist in his hands and eased her onto her back on a thick pallet of furs. “My heart has been so lonely without you,” he whispered. “Stay with me forever, No-din. Forever.”

Mariah twined her arms around his neck, oblivious of the night’s chill, aware only of Echohawk’s mouth closing over hers in a fierce kiss, and of the warmth of his hand easing beneath her dress. She raised her hips, making it easier for him to remove her undergarment. After that was tossed aside and Echohawk closed his hand over her throbbing center, she sucked in a wild breath of ecstasy. When he thrust a finger within her, and his tongue began probing between her lips, the pleasure was so intensely beautiful, the world seemed to be melting away beneath her.

Moving over her with his body, his breechclout now cast aside, Echohawk smoothed her dress up past her hips and moved gently into her, then pressed endlessly deeper as she raised her hips and strained to meet him.

Mariah sucked at his lips and tongue, her hands traveling over his muscled back and then around to where she could get occasional touches of his satin shaft as he moved generously in and out of her.

She closed her eyes, a spinning heat seizing her, rising and flooding her whole body, pushing at the boundaries of her senses. That she was with Echohawk again, sharing the wonder of his embrace, was all that mattered. Their bodies and souls fused, becoming one entity.

When he moved slightly away from her, she reached out for him and drew him back. Placing her hands at the nape of his neck, she brought his lips to hers and kissed him passionately, as once again he entered her. Her gasps of pleasure became soft whimpers as she felt the pleasure mounting, then sweeping through her as his body reached a matching passion, finally subsiding exhaustedly into hers.

They lay there for a long while, Mariah gently stroking his back. “I’m sorry for having doubted you,” she whispered. “You do forgive me, don’t you?”

“It is easy to doubt the red man,” Echohawk said, turning on his side toward her, tracing the outline of her face with his forefinger. “I am not sure that will ever change.”

“It must,” Mariah said, moving into his embrace, hugging him to her. “It’s not fair.”

“Not much in life is fair,” Echohawk said. He eased away from her and drew on his breechclout and eyeglasses.

Mariah pulled her dress over her head, slipped her undergarment on, and placed a blanket around her shoulders as she moved closer to the fire. She began to speak more apologies to Echohawk, but something else drew her attention. Wide-eyed, her heart skipping several beats, she saw a loon in the fading light of evening, surely the one that they had been hearing. It was caught in the rapids.

Horrified, Mariah watched the bird as it struggled with fate for a while, but finding escape impossible, it faced downward and went under, screaming hideously, soon lost in the foaming, roaring rapids below.