Comanche Woman (48 page)

“I only wanted her to be happy.”

He turned her around in his arms. “And are you happy?”

“I don’t . . . I suppose I . . . are you?” she countered, unable to put her feelings into words.

“I have you.” He leaned down to kiss her briefly, but she noticed he hadn’t answered the question.

She searched the face of the man who held her in his arms and saw lines of worry at the corners of his eyes. Had they been there before? She saw the tightness around his mouth. Was that bitterness? Anger? She saw the faint creases on his forehead. Had she contributed to those? Was there anything in his countenance that spoke of happiness or contentment? He’d said he had her. What if she wasn’t enough? It was a sobering, even frightening, thought.

“Are you really, truly happy here with me? Do you ever wish you were back home in
Comanchería?
”

He smiled at her question, and all the lines of worry and tension disappeared. “What brought that on?”

Her fingertips traced the feathery lines at the edges of his eyes, then sought out the lips that curved now with amusement. She looked up expecting to find a sparkle in his eyes, but there, in the gray depths, the sadness still remained. “I just wondered,” she murmured.

Long Quiet knew what she was asking. How could he answer her? His fondest wish had been answered when her father had brought her to his doorstep and demanded that he take her as his wife. So, yes, he was happy with what he had—but he wanted more. He’d seen how her love overflowed on those she cared for, on Little Deer and now on Sloan and Cruz and Cisco. He would have given all he had to have it envelop him as well.

He felt the firm roundness of her abdomen pressed against him. There was happiness in knowing a part of them both grew inside of her. And there was happiness in knowing he could hold her and love her. His hands curved around her buttocks and he cradled her more firmly between his thighs. He felt her hands tighten around his waist in response. For now, it was enough.

“I don’t know how to reassure you, but I think you want reassurance,” Long Quiet said at last. “I can only say it doesn’t matter to me whether I live in a tipi or an adobe house. My grandfather once told me, ‘Happiness is a feeling inside that makes a gift of each day the Great Spirit gives you to walk upon the Earth Mother.’ I never really understood that until now. Look at me, Bay.”

He waited until she looked up at him and said, “To me, you are home and happiness.”

Bay had never felt so needed, so fulfilled, as she did at that moment.

Long Quiet tried, but failed, to keep the bitterness from his voice as he added, “I’ll try to give you the things you need to be happy, too.”

“What if I said having things doesn’t matter to me as much as being with you?” Bay replied.

He pulled her arms from about his waist and forced her to stay back so he could see her better. “You don’t have to lie about a thing like that, Bay. You can’t help the way you were raised. I can understand your appreciation for beautiful things, even if I don’t share your need for them. And I don’t intend that you should be deprived of those things forever simply because you’re married to me. I promise to work hard for you, Bay, and someday we’ll—”

Her fingertip silenced him. “Please don’t say any more.” If she loved him hard enough and long enough, maybe someday he’d believe that she didn’t need to be surrounded by silver and crystal or dressed in silks and lace. He was everything she needed or wanted.

The loving between them began sweetly, as each sought acceptance and love from the other. It was a futile quest on which they were bound, for what they sought had already been given—they simply had not recognized the gift.

The days and nights that followed fell into a pattern of easy camaraderie during the day followed by stormy passion at night. Yet both Bay and Long Quiet remained frustrated by the misunderstanding that stood between them.

On Sunday, Bay looked forward to seeing Sloan again. Perhaps her sister would be able to shed some light on the problem. But Cruz and Cisco arrived first with a picnic lunch, and the moment Sloan got there they all set off in Cruz’s carriage for a picnic spot Long Quiet had found while out hunting stray cattle.

They topped a rise and saw a huge old live oak that had grown up in the middle of a grassy field. It would have taken six grown men holding hands to circle the trunk of the tree. Its spreading branches created an expanse of shade the size of the manor house at Three Oaks. In the shade of the tree, delicate flowers that would have died in the hot Texas sun had flourished.

“This is wonderful,” Bay said as Long Quiet helped her down from the wagon.

“Glory! This tree would make a great target for lightning in a thunderstorm,” Sloan said.

“It is good we picked a day of sunshine to come here, is it not?” Cruz said, smiling as he took Cisco from Sloan’s lap and set him on the ground.

“I can get down by myself,” Sloan said when Cruz held up his hands for her.

“As you wish,” he said, and stepped back.

Cruz brought the woven picnic basket over to the spot where Bay had laid out a quilt to use as a tablecloth.

“Go walk,” Cisco demanded, grabbing Cruz’s pant leg and tugging on it.

“Will you come with us, Sloan?” Cruz asked.

“I should help . . .” Sloan met Cruz’s encouraging gaze and changed her mind. “All right. Yes, I’ll come.”

As Cruz, Sloan, and Cisco headed toward a slight rise at the edge of the shade, Bay busied herself setting out the food Cruz had brought—meat and bean tortillas, tamales wrapped in corn husks, shelled pecans, oranges, and
buñuelos
, crisp fried tortillas with a cinnamon-sugar topping, for dessert.

“What a feast! Everything looks so good.” She broke off a piece of a
buñuelo
and popped it in her mouth. “Ummm, sweet.”

“Let me taste,” Long Quiet said, coming down on his knees across from Bay.

She held out another bite of the dessert, but Long Quiet chose to taste her instead. “Ummm, yes, that’s sweet all right,” he said as his tongue darted out for a bit of sugar on her lips, and then into her mouth for a taste of Bay. He toppled her over backward on the blanket and came down on top of her, keeping his weight on his arms.

Bay flushed. “Long Quiet, what are you doing?”

“Making love to my wife,” he murmured, nibbling on her throat.

“Ah. What a good idea that is,” Bay said with a smile as she arched her throat for his lips.

He teased her with light kisses, but his hips were flush with hers and every time he kissed her he pressed himself against her, until the kisses became more hungry and the thrusts more demanding.

Suddenly, Long Quiet rolled himself off her and threw his arm up to cover his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and Bay didn’t have to look to know he was aroused.

She sat up and ran her fingers through the hair he’d mussed with his hands. “I guess that wasn’t such a good idea,” she said, breathing heavily.

“The idea was fine,” Long Quiet countered with a rueful grin. He turned and propped himself up on his elbow. “It was the timing that was wrong.” He scooted himself over so his head was in Bay’s lap and relaxed with his arms stretched out above his head, his hands curved around her waist.

Bay’s hands threaded through the curls on his forehead, brushing them away from his face. In a moment his eyes closed in relaxation. His hands slipped down to caress her buttocks and thighs.

“This is the way life was meant to be lived,” he murmured. “A man doesn’t need more than good food, fresh air and sunshine, and a woman to love . . .”

“. . . who loves him back,” Bay finished. When Long Quiet started to rise, she caught his shoulders and kept his head in her lap. “Please listen. I’ve been trying to explain for days now that—”

At that moment Cisco screamed shrilly. Both Bay and Long Quiet were on their feet in an instant, only to discover that it was a scream of delight. Cisco came running toward them, pursued by Sloan and Cruz. As they watched, Sloan scooped Cisco up in her arms and nuzzled his neck as he laughed hysterically.

“I’ll get you for putting flowers in my hair,” she taunted. “Take that!” Sloan kissed Cisco on the neck.

He laughed and twisted away, putting his hands up to protect his face.

“And that!” Sloan kissed him on the ear. “And that!” She kissed him on the chin.

Cruz came up behind her and held the brunt of Cisco’s weight, cocooning Sloan between the two of them. Sloan stiffened as she realized what had happened. When another kiss didn’t come, Cisco straightened up to see what had stopped the game.

“Kiss?”

Sloan leaned to kiss Cisco’s nose, the sides of her breasts brushing against Cruz’s arms as she did so. “That’s enough kisses for now. Aren’t you hungry?”

“
Sí!
Hungry,” Cisco responded with all the enthusiasm of a two-year-old for food. “Down!” he demanded.

Cruz had to release his hold in order for Sloan to set the child down. She moved quickly from Cruz’s arms and set Cisco on his feet. He headed on the run for the blanket covered with food.

Sloan turned to Cruz and, in a voice too low to be heard by the others, said, “Don’t do that again.”

Cruz didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You are too young to spend the rest of your life alone, Cebellina.”

“Stay away from me,” she hissed. “I want to see my son, but I won’t if it means I have to contend with you touching me like . . . touching me.” She shivered and crossed her arms as though to protect herself. It was the pleasure of his touch that frightened her.

“I will not touch you, if that is your wish.” He gestured toward the picnic blanket. “Shall we go join the others and eat now?”

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. While Cisco napped, Sloan and Bay took a walk together.

“How are things at Three Oaks?” Bay asked.

Sloan reached down to grab a stem of seed grass and chewed on the end, sucking out the sweetness at the tip. “As well as can be expected. Rip’s still looking for a way to pay Jonas. The note’s not due until the first of the year, so he has some time to try to come up with the money.”

“What will you do if he can’t pay the note?”

Sloan threw away the stem of grass and grabbed another. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. My whole life’s been planned with Three Oaks in mind. I can’t imagine what I’d do if . . . if it wasn’t there someday. I’m glad you didn’t marry Jonas, though.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. It’s easy to see there’s something special between you and Walker.”

“He thinks I only married him because I’m pregnant with his child. He thinks I regret marrying him because he isn’t wealthy.”

Sloan snorted. “Why on earth would he think a foolish thing like that?”

“Because when I thought I was going to have to marry Jonas, I told Walker I needed the things Jonas could give me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Why don’t you just tell him the truth?”

“I’ve tried. Every time I open my mouth, he interrupts me. Or we get sidetracked.”

Sloan smiled slyly. “I bet.”

Bay flushed but continued, “I’ve told him I love him, but he doesn’t believe me. How am I going to convince him I’m telling the truth?”

Sloan dropped to the ground cross-legged, and Bay dropped down beside her.

“To start with, I think you have to tell him the real reason why you were going to marry Jonas, even if you have to tie him down to do it.”

“And then?”

“Tell him the truth and see what happens. You might be pleasantly surprised.”

Bay put a hand on Sloan’s knee. “Thanks. I needed someone to talk to about this. I only hope you’re right.”

“Anytime,” Sloan said. “Now I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For returning my son to me. I don’t know if it’s because he looks so little like Antonio or because he’s so adorable . . . or simply because I’ve dreamed so often what it would be like to hold my son in my arms—but it’s easier to be with Cisco than I thought. I’m grateful to you for helping me find that out.”

“Do you think you’ll ever want to take him back?”

“Seeing Cisco on Sundays is enough for me right now. Let’s not look too far ahead, all right?”

“Sure, Sloan.”

“Guess we’d better be getting back. Cruz and Cisco have a long ride home.”