Red Snow Bride (Wolf Brides Book 2) (12 page)

“You don’t have to do this tonight,” he said in deep, husky voice.

I closed my eyes against the embarrassment. “You don’t want to?”

Faster than I thought humanly possible, he was here with his arms around me. He captured my mouth with his and some deep instinct had me gripping him closer. I didn’t know he’d lifted me or carried me into the tent until I was there, under the furs with him. His touch was fire against my skin—teasing, consuming…mesmerizing.”

My body reacted with blooming warmth, and my mind threatened to shut down completely to ride the waves of want. I plucked his buttons open one by one and slid my cold hand against the warm, hard planes of his chest. Good gracious, my hand was meant to be against the steel planes of his silken skin.

So this was what it was like to touch a man—to
feel
a man.

Pulling at his shirt until it gave under my frantic grip, he shrugged out of the confines of the fabric and pressed his bare skin to mine. How could I have lived my entire life without his embrace? How could I have lived another day more without it?

A helpless groan escaped my lips and Jeremiah dipped his head to my neck. “Please,” I breathed against his ear. I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

A long, low rumbling sound came from the depths of his chest. It vibrated against my skin and called to the warmth deep within me. His arms were stone as he froze and my fingers searched his skin for softness where none could be found. Iron hard muscle twitched under my fingertips.

He turned his face from me and sat up. “I can’t tonight,” he gritted out.

A stinging ache brushed my skin where his warmth had left it, like a part of me was missing and left the rest of me raw and exposed. Cold air slithered in between us and sang of my failure. “Why?”

“I just can’t.” His voice sounded off…raspier and deeper. “Use that pistol if anyone comes before I get back.”

“I don’t understand,” I said to his back, but then he was gone. I crossed my arms over my bare chest, exposed to the elements and chilling to the bone. “What did I do wrong?”

The song of breeze against barren tree branches was my only answer.

Biting my lip, I sank into the warm folds of the furs and pressed my hand against my chest until the pounding of my heart slowed to its normal rhythm. Rejection burned like a hot ember against my soul and I squeezed my eyes closed against the pain. An intense desperation washed over me for unconsciousness to free me from my churning thoughts and wonderings.

Unfortunately, sleep came slowly, like the first buds of spring after an eternal winter.

I’d tied the tent opening as tightly closed as I could and stared at the holster of pistols for a long time. Even if I wasn’t deathly afraid to touch the things, I wouldn’t know how to use them on an intruder. He’d left me alone on my first night in this scary place. I didn’t trust myself to make it safely back to the barn or I would’ve escaped my tiny prison.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, I’d found the comforting darkness behind my eyelids.

I only woke once in the night to the shuffling and snuffling of some wild creature outside my tent. Try as I might, I couldn’t make out its figure through the tent walls but it sounded big. I lay there in terror, too afraid to move for fear of alerting the animal an easy meal lay just inside the fabric of the camp. And just like he’d appeared, the sound of his feet against the dry forest carpet faded into the night and I slept again.

Lorelei

I awoke to the gray light of early morning. As I stretched my legs they brushed against something solid and warm.

“It’s just me,” Jeremiah said in a sleepy voice.

“Aaah!” I squawked. Why on earth hadn’t I put my clothes back on last night? I yanked on the covers until I likely resembled a wooly bear with human eyes, then shoved Jeremiah away with the tips of my toes.

“What’re you doing?” The tiny remnants of his amusement were obnoxious.

“What are
you
doing? You don’t come back all night, you leave me to the animals on my first night home, and then you snuggle my naked body without my permission?” Okay, I was yelling, but so what? The man had clearly lost his mind.

“I thought you gave me permission last night. You were the one takin’ all your clothes off if I remember correctly.”

“Well…a lot of good that bloody did me! I’m mortified!”

He moved with the grace of a deer with none of the soreness he’d showed last night. He grabbed my kicking ankle and gave me a devilish smile. “Now why are you feelin’ mortified?” He pulled my bare foot against his lap. His thick, long erection pressed against his thin pants, and I gasped as he drew the pad of my big toe the length of it. “You got me riled up to an inferno in two seconds flat.”

“What? I don’t even know what that means. You left me…like that. In the middle of...” I yanked my foot out of his grasp to save what was left of my dignity. “I want my dress!”

How could he be so rampantly happy when I felt like the grit underneath the floorboards? Had he no consideration for me at all? He stood and disappeared from our flimsy shanty, then tossed my dress into the open tent flaps. The unapologetic oaf waited just outside with a baiting grin on his face. He had nothing more than light cotton trousers on and his torso, which I hadn’t been able to make out much in the dark last night, was bare and tantalizing for me to glare at. Hard planes of muscle rippled and flexed as he lifted his hands to rest on his hips. Breathtaking, infuriating man! Not an ounce of fat was on the entirety of his body. Jagged little scars ran over the majority of his skin but they looked old and long healed and they only added to his rugged appeal. They didn’t make them like this in the city.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

I clacked my gaping mouth closed. “Turn around. I need to get dressed.”

He leaned against a tree and scratched his lip with the back of his thumbnail. “If I turn around, how will I see your body?”

I opened then closed my mouth, floundering for words like some landed trout. The fur was warm and soft as I clutched it tighter. “Please, don’t look at me.”

He frowned and shoved off the tree as I escaped the tent with my furry shield. “Hey,” he said, pulling me to him and rubbing a finger down the side of my face. “What happened to the brave woman from last night?”

“You rejected her.” With my back to him I slipped into my dress. He could look or he couldn’t. My pride hadn’t been bruised. It had been annihilated and now, on top of everything else, he was laughing at me.

When I turned around, his back was to me. At least he had some manners.

“I’m taking you to visit some friends. They have a bunch of ponies they’d trade for the horse you have now and you can pick what you want.”

“Fine,” I growled. I tried to stomp away through the forest but I got lost in about two and a half yards and had to wait for Jeremiah to lead me back to the clearing. And tapping the toe of my high button leather shoe with impatience didn’t make him go any faster.

“I’ll saddle your horse. Why don’t you go get some breakfast?” he offered.

I stomped off toward Kristina without another word. Without turning around, I could feel his eyes upon me as if they bored tiny holes into the back of my neck. I curbed the urge to throw a stick at him, but just barely.

Kristina sat by the fire licking her fingers. “Did you guys have fun last night?” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“That depends on what you call fun. I thought we would, but obviously I’ve done something wrong, yet again, and he disappeared for the rest of the night.” I squashed the lip tremble. Riding my anger out was better than giving into the sting of my welted pride.

“He didn’t bed you? Oooooh,” she said with serious eyes gone wide enough to rival a wood sprite’s. “Yeah, that wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose fault is it? What possible reason could a man have for running out in the middle of—well, you know?”

She shoveled scrambled eggs and thinly sliced venison steak onto a plate and handed it to me. “Now I can’t tell you anything about that stuff because it’s Jeremiah’s place to answer those questions. But trust me when I say, it ain’t you. Now, where do you want your house? Luke is starting on the hearth today while you’re away.”

Well, that was an unexpected turn of conversation. The house was actually much more preferable to talk about than the embarrassing events of my failed seduction. “I can pick anywhere?”

“Anywhere in this clearing. It’s safest if we can get to each other easily though. Traipsing through the woods trying to track each other down is a bad idea. Oh, and probably not on that side of the barn unless you want to be downwind of the pigs and chickens and wake up to someone cleaning game meat on the hook every other morning.”

“Unsavory. What about…over there?” I pointed to the far end of the clearing on the other side of the old burned house. “I should ask Jeremiah if he’s okay with being that far away from the barn though.”

Kristina slurped a bite of eggs. “Good wife. Jeremiah,” she said at a normal conversational volume.

“What do you need?” he yelled back from the doorway of the barn like he’d heard her.

“If you don’t answer he’ll eventually come over here and find out what you want,” she said, shoveling another bite.

“More marital advice?”

“More Dawson advice. They think its fine and dandy to have a conversation from a mile away.”

Jeremiah pulled two horses behind him and left them to graze the half frozen grass near the lumber. “Did you need something?”

“I was thinking the house could go over there.”

He pulled his pants over his boots and squinted in the direction I pointed. “We’d have the wind at our backs and if we face it right we could keep the sun out of the bedroom window in the morning so you could sleep in when you feel like it. Let’s go take a look at it.”

Like I’d never yelled at him at all, he encased my tiny hand in his and walked beside me until I said, “Here.”

He took a few giant steps and spun around in a circle. “It’s not too far from the barn. I like it. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and my traitorous body leaned back into him. “Imagine,” he rumbled into my ear, “we’re standing at the front door of our home, the home we built together, and we’re lookin’ out over the clearing. Is this the view you want, Lorelei?”

The tension left my body as I exhaled. I could imagine it all too well. With children running around and Kristina and Luke waving goodnight from their house across the way. “I want a porch with rocking chairs.”

“Naturally.”

“And I want a bed to sleep on, Jeremiah. Not just a pile of furs. An actual bed.”

“We may have to wait for the money from the next cattle drive, but I’ll give you what you need.”

I gave a curt nod. “Pretty horse, porch, bed. Those and you, and I’ll be happy.”

A delicious smile edged his voice. “You’ve already got one of ’em, now let’s go work on that pretty horse for you.”

Mounted sidesaddle, I waved to Kristina who was rinsing dishes inside of a small wooden bucket under the water pump. “Tell Kicking Bull hi for me,” she called.

“Who’s Kicking Bull?” I asked.

Jeremiah nudged his horse with his knees. “You’ll see.”

Lorelei

“If the Ute are a nomadic tribe, then how do you intend to find them?” I asked as I ducked under another passing tree branch.

“I can smell them,” Jeremiah said.

“Oh, you can smell them,” I said lightly. “Well that’s good for you. All I can smell is fur and copious amounts of equine fecal matter.”

“Equine fecal…you mean horse crap? That’s because your horse is working through some serious stomach cramps.”

“Will they have any spotted horses like Kristina’s?”

“Maybe. My advice, for what it’s worth, is to pick a horse you like the temperament on first and the looks second. You don’t want a demon with a pretty face. We can pull a few you’ll like and you can figure out which one you get along with best.”

Three young boys met us at a tree line and pretended to throw toy spears at Jeremiah. He laughed and acted like they’d got him, then they ran off whooping and celebrating. Seven large teepees dotted the land and a rushing river snaked behind the Indian’s camp. Dogs and horses roamed freely and children ran around harried mother’s legs in play. Women were dressed in rich earth tones and their dark, cascading, parted hair lifted loosely in the breeze. Warriors wore their hair in braids with feathers and carried spears adorned with the tails of animals. Some wore elegant head dresses with hundreds of feathers that draped strings of beads.

“Mahtuhgurch Sahdteech,” the men said in slow, lyrical voices as we passed.

“What does that mean?” I asked Jeremiah, who greeted some he obviously knew.

“The translation doesn’t work exactly right to English. It’s a name they call my brothers and me. It means something like Dog of the Moon.”

“Strange nickname,” I said, waving to a trio of curious little girls. They waved back and ducked into one of the teepees.

“Not strange to them. It’s a term of respect they don’t give out lightly.” He hopped from his horse and pulled me down from my mount. “It’s an honor.”

“It does have a better ring to it than Grub Worm.”

“Exactly. Kicking Bull,” he nodded respectfully to a man in a huge headdress who approached.

He said a string of musical words in his language and I rode the notes with interest, though I couldn’t understand a letter of it. His words were like a song—rhythmic, rich, and inviting.

Jeremiah responded in the same language and shocked, I watched his mouth move in the tongue of the tribe. The man’s mysteries only seemed to grow the better I thought I knew him.

“Kicking Bull, this is my woman, Lorelei. Lorelei, Kicking Bull, chief of this band of Ute.”

The white of his teeth contrasted against the olive tones of his sun leathered skin and his dark eyes danced with easy humor. “Bride of the Wolf, welcome.”

“My new wife here took a fancy to that pretty Nez Perce pony you traded with Luke for. She’s wanting to trade her new horse in for something with a little more flair.”

Kicking Bull twitched his head toward the horse behind me and one of the men ran a hand down its back and studied it with a seemingly experienced eye. He pulled open her mouth to reveal straight, white teeth and nodded to Kicking Bull.

“We also need one of your knives if you have any to spare. Something that’ll fit her hand well.” Jeremiah patted the hide that was tied to the back of his saddle. “I’ll throw in the bear fur for the knife and as a thanks for the warning of the crows.”

“It’s a good trade. Who killed the bear?”

Jeremiah snorted. “Kristina.”

The old Indian’s booming laugh was deep and easy on the ears. Kristina killing a bear was news to me, and I’m sure my face showed as much.

A woman gestured for me to follow her. She wore an ankle length dress made of animal hide that was so light in color it competed with the white of the occasional snow drifts that still clung stubbornly to the landscape. The hem was heavily fringed and around her waist was tied a wide strip of leather. The shawl she wore to ward off the chill was intricately beaded in blues and whites.

“I’m going to talk with Kicking Bull for a bit,” Jeremiah said. “You’ll be safe with his woman, Tauri. I’ll come get you soon.”

Oh, I heard what he was really saying all right. No girls allowed and all that. Fine, I could entertain myself. I followed the striking woman without a goodbye. Take what he would from that.

“The men,” Tauri explained, “they have much to talk about.”

Her English was a pleasant surprise. “Like what?”

“Your man defied his fate and survived something most wouldn’t. He has strong magic and Kicking Bull respects his friendship. They have known each other for many years, and now that our future is uncertain off the reservation, he will ask Mahtuhgurch Sahdteech for council.” She stopped in front of a trio of deer hides stretched across the ground and staked into place. “Do you paint?”

“I’m dreadful at painting. My mother tried to tutor me in fine arts, but I never had the eye for it.”

“You can help me tan these hides then. Here, like this.” She handed me a blade with a handle across the side for a two handed grip. “Work one section until it is soft and smooth, then move to the next.”

On my hands and knees, the work was tedious and my shoulders ached with the strain, but the rhythm of work eased any tension we had as strangers. She talked freely of her children, two grown sons and a daughter, and her grandchildren, two grandsons with another on the way. She thought she’d have a granddaughter by the end of the moon’s cycle.

One of her grandsons came and sat quietly propped against a pole that held an unfinished painting of a wolf and a giant tree with flames licking its branches. The young boy looked different than the others running to and fro between the teepees. His skin was lighter and though his hair was dark, his eyes weren’t. Instead, they were the gray color of a dove.

Somewhere in this boy’s family tree, one of the branches had been white.

He waved shyly when I greeted him and his grandmother looked at him with such a pride, I ached for my own family. His looks didn’t make any difference to the woman beside me and I liked her more for it. When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, Tauri wiped her forehead and pulled me off my aching knees.

“Did you paint that?” I asked of the colorful hide.

“I did. We paint things that happen to and around our people. Pictures and beadwork are a way to preserve stories from our history.”

I angled my head and squinted at the picture. Something about the tree seemed so familiar, like I’d seen it in a dream or something. When I turned to ask her more about it, Tauri had disappeared like she’d never existed in the first place. I spun around but all the faces around me were unfamiliar. A flap to the nearest teepee opened and she reappeared with a necklace of white beads. It was adorned with a small pendant of beads the color of Mother’s brightest red summer roses from home. She held it up and arched her eyebrows in silent question.

“For me? It’s beautiful.” I ran a light finger over the medallion.

She tied it in the back and patted my shoulders gently. “You’ll be a good woman for Mahtuhgurch Sahdteech. You’ll soothe the fire in his animal.”

Tauri’s way with words didn’t make much sense sometimes but I thought I got where she was coming from. If every man had inner demons, the right woman should be able to calm them.

She nodded slightly. “I liked talking to you. Maybe I’ll come with Kicking Bull next time he seeks out Mahtuhgurch Sahdteech.”

“I’d love that. Please do.”

She gestured to a string of four Indian ponies tied to a rope stretched between two teepees. Jeremiah stood to the side and talked softly to two fearsome looking braves.

“That’s sure a pretty necklace you got there,” he called.

“Thank you. Tauri gave it to me.”

He smiled affectionately at the woman beside me, then arched his gaze back to me. “These are your options. These fillies are young and sound, good teeth and any one of these will make you a fine horse.”

One was mostly white with a black face and a couple of tar black patches across its body. Her eyes were blue and she blinked slowly behind dark eyelashes. The horse beside her was pure white with a soft pink nose and cream colored hooves. The next was another paint, but she was covered in chestnut spots with very little white. The last one was a color I’d never seen before. It was white as the snow except its legs from the knees down were black as pitch to match her dark tail and mane. All were equally beautiful and most certainly not boring.

I approached the white with black socks first. She tossed her head as I came closer and snorted as I reached for her. The next, the chestnut paint, didn’t seem to even notice me there and only moved to shift her weight on relaxed legs. The next wiggled her lips at me and made me giggle but it was the last, the mostly white with the black face and blue eyes that captured my heart. As soon as I was close enough, the mare pulled me to her chest with her chin across my shoulder and gently nibbled at my shirt. When I placed my hands on her neck she pressed her face against mine and waited. Her breath was steady and strong, blowing little tufts of steam across my shoulder. Feathers tied into her black mane fluttered in the wind.

“This one,” I said, pulling back to get a look at her delicate face again.

“I had a feeling as much but here’s the catch.” Jeremiah drew up beside my choice and ran a hand down her back. “You can’t be riding this filly sidesaddle, you hear? She’s quick and young, and sooner or later you’re going to need her to run. It ain’t safe to ride a horse like this one sidesaddle.”

I pursed my lips. “I’ve never ridden like man before.”

“That’s the deal. You take this one, you’ll ride split-legged from here on.”

Her blue eyes watched me steadily. She was already mine. “Fine.” I was trying to contain my excitement but a tiny squeal still managed to escape me. “She’s perfect,” I gushed.

His smile melted any resolve I had, and I flung my arms around his neck. His surprised tension melted as he chuckled deeply against my hair. “She suits you. Here.” He pressed an antler bone handle of a large knife into the palm of my hand.

I pulled it slowly out of its sheath and the blade glistened in the sun.

“There’s the second part of your wedding present. Keep it on you at all times and I’ll feel a little better about draggin’ you all the way out here.”

When my pocket was heavy with the weight of it, Jeremiah took the saddle from the brown horse and hefted it over the back of my paint. We said our goodbyes and headed back to the long trail that would lead us home. Sitting split-legged was about the most scandalous thing I’d felt since my fall from society. Holding a saddle in between my thighs and telling my horse where to go with the pressure of my split knees was a new experience, but I had to admit, it was more comfortable not twisting in the saddle to hold the reins.

Jeremiah shot me glance after glance, like he didn’t quite know what to make of me on the new horse, but the ease in his speech made me think he didn’t mind it.

“What’re you going to name her?”

“I have to name her?”

“I don’t have a name for mine and I’m pretty sure Luke doesn’t either, but Kristina named her spotted pony Rosy.”

“A horse this pretty should have a name,” I crooned. “When I was a child I rode a stick about between lessons. The horses I learned on were horribly stuck up, you see, but my imaginary horse was wild and did anything I wanted her to. My stick horse’s name was Beigha.”

“Beigha,” he murmured. “I like it. Beigha, the least boring horse I’ve ever set eyes on.”

He bobbed easily in the saddle as his horse trotted slowly beside Beigha’s quick pace. He held the reins in one hand and the other rested on his thigh. His back was straight and strong and never before had I seen a man so capable and beautiful in the saddle. “Jeremiah?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for understanding about the horse. You paid for another man’s mistake, and you did it without complaint. It means a great deal to me.”

“I’m glad.” A mischievous grin stole his face. “Now, I’ve been waiting for the chance to get you at more than a slow walk since yesterday. You ready to see what your new horse can do?”

“You mean run her?”

“Hold onto the saddle horn and give her a kick. If she’s too fast, slow her down.”

“Are you wanting to race, Mr. Dawson?”

“That’s what I want.”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea—hyah!” I yelled, kicking my horse while disappointment still swam in my husband’s eyes.

His booming laughter mixed with my own as we dodged trees and brush. My heart raced faster and faster to the beating of Beigha’s hooves. Jeremiah was right behind, and it made the race that much more exciting to think he would catch me any moment. The race stretched on forever and as I adjusted to the gait of my horse, my new riding style only became more comfortable.

My instructors had never let me go faster than a trot, and here my husband was, telling me to let my horse loose, trusting me too compete with him as an equal.

When I lost track of the way home, his horse danced with mine in a subtle cadence that told me the way. The race stretched to the stars and back and when we were finally, finally at the edge of our clearing I pulled my tiring horse to a trot and then to a walk. She’d given everything I asked and more. Much like my husband had done today.