Page 67 of Red Hawk's Woman

She shook her head. “But let us leave them on for now—you still have your breechcloth on.”

“That is easily remedied.”

“No,” she said. “It is too soon.”

“Aa, I think I understand. Let us swim underwater.” Securing her hand in his, he said, “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Then take a deep breath, and come with me.”

Inhaling, she followed him in a dive.

It was an experience unlike any other. The cool liquid rushed over her like a lingering caress, gently massaging every part of her body. Her nipples were taut, aching, as though they awaited a master’s touch. It felt naughty, yet heavenly, to be here like this with him.

Their movements through the dark liquid were tardy, sensual, their legs and arms entwining as though they danced, there beneath the water. She had never swum in the water at night, and so many shadows filled the stream, from the trees, the shrubs and the clouds overhead, that she might have found the experience more than a little frightening, were it not for Red Hawk’s hand, which still held hers tightly.

Forging through the water, Red Hawk pulled her into his arms, his form stretched out in full and hers up tight against his. Over and over he rolled with her, there under the water’s surface, executing a laggardly, rhythmic performance, bringing her ever and ever closer to him.

Their legs entangled, and they held each other securely. The feel of her bare chest touching against the naked expanse of his sent her blood boiling. All at once the water, once so cold, felt much too warm.

But she needed breath. Pointing her index finger upward, she signaled that she required air. Both of them gasped as they broke the surface. When he reached down to pull off her drawers, throwing them toward the shoreline, she only knew relief that at last she could feel the water against her there as well.

“What are these?” He glanced down and fingered the satchels tied to her waist.

Effie grimaced. How could she have forgotten about the artifacts so easily? “These tiny sacks contain valuables that I carry with me always.”

He nodded. “This is where you store the artifacts.”

She didn’t answer.

“You are a very smart woman to keep these so close to you. Your clothes protect them, and no one can see them or get to them easily. It is a good place. Do not worry, your secret is safe with me.”

She nodded, but buried within her heart, she worried. Was it true? Was her secret really safe with him? Didn’t he desire to gain the artifacts as much as anyone else?

However, she had no time in which to debate the question. For now, she trusted him, and he was close, so very, very close, and she wanted him closer yet. She could feel the evidence of his sex, there at the apex of her legs. The knowledge quietly sent her pulse into convulsions.

“Poohsapoot,” he whispered against her ear, and he half led, half carried her to the shore, where he laid her back against the soft grasses that lined the stream.

“Are there snakes here?” she asked, shivering slightly.

“We are too far north for snakes to inhabit these waters. A little farther south and you might find a few. The danger of snakes in this country is on the land, not here in the water.”

“Good,” she said.

In a voice most teasing, he stated, “We married folks have many ways of showing each other our love. One of them is like this.” He came up over her, taking one of her breasts into his mouth.

She groaned.

“Oh,” he murmured against her, and then so softly she barely heard him, he added, “to see you with my child, suckling on your breast. How proud I would be.”

He shifted to her other breast, and she twisted beneath him, as though she might squirm her way to some unknown pinnacle. Deep within her, at the junction of her legs, an excitement roused. She wanted more…more…but of what?

Momentarily, he left her breasts and moved upward until he was raining wet kisses over her neck, her chest, her ear, her cheeks, her lips, her eyes. In truth, no part of her face escaped his notice.

“Kitsikakomimmo.”

She murmured back, “Kitsikakomimmo,” which had the immediate response of eliciting a groan from him.