142
" You make lies of your promises, Blue Eyes.”
“Not this time. I swear it, Hunter. I swear it before God, I’ll be your woman. Anything for Amy.”
He caught her chin. “You make a God promise? You will lie with me in my buffalo robes?”
Loretta closed her eyes. The words stuck in her throat. She was sacrificing her self-respect. Her own people would forever scorn her if they knew. But what choice did she have?
“Yes, I’ll lie with you.”
“You will see into me when you speak.”
She lifted her lashes. His eyes burned with an intensity she’d never seen before. “I’ll lie with you, I swear to God.”
“You will not fight the big fight when I put my hands upon you?”
“No.”
“And you will eat? You will stay beside me? Forever into the horizon?”
“Yes.”
He brushed his thumb across her mouth, remembering how sweet her lips had tasted. A slow smile creased his dark face. “You will say it before your God.”
Loretta blinked and met his gaze. “I swear it before God--I’ll eat and I’ll stay beside you, forever into the horizon.”
“You will not fight the great fight?”
“No, I won’t fight.”
He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her against him. “Ah, Blue Eyes, it is a good bargain this Comanche has made. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
143
" There’s a time and a place for everything, and this isn’t it.”
“No?” He ran a hand under her blouse. “I say it is a very good time.”
She jerked when his fingers scaled her ribs. “That tickles.”
Without warning he rolled with her, coming out on top. He kissed her lightly on the lips while he moved his hand from her ribs to her breast. The small mound of warm flesh fit perfectly in his hand, the crest springing taut against his palm. Scarlet flamed on her cheeks. Unable to resist, Hunter lifted her blouse and moved off her to look, one thigh slanted across both of hers to keep her still. He had guessed right; when she was shy, she grew pink all over.
“Hunter!” She tried to shove the leather down. “Someone might come!”
“No one comes.”
Fascinated, he touched the rosy tip of her nipple with his dark fingers, watching it harden and thrust upward, begging for attention--attention he was more than willing to give it. Dipping his head, he flicked the tip of his tongue across the peak, then seized it with his teeth.
She gasped and made fists in his hair. “Hunter?”
“Hm?” He moved to the unkissed breast. “What is it you want, little one?”
Her breath caught as his teeth closed on her. “I want to go.”
With skillful determination, Hunter continued the exquisite torment until the tips of her nipples throbbed, swollen and hot, against the end of his tongue.
“Hunter, please…” She moaned and drew him toward her, arching her hips against him. “Hunter…”
He obliged her and at last took her into his mouth. She cried out at the sharp pull, and he gloried in the sound, in the knowledge that he could make her surrender to him. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
144
" It is good?”
“Mm,” she said, taking another bite and brushing her palm clean on her bloomers. “Delicious.”
“Dee-lish-us?”
For the space of a heartbeat she forgot to be afraid of him, and a smile spread across her lips before she realized it was coming. When he smiled back at her, the strangest feeling swept over her, an inexplicable warmth. He had smiled at her before, of course, but never like this.
“Delicious,” she repeated. “That means very good, much better than just good.”
His smile didn’t fade, and she found herself fascinated. On a civilized man, that lopsided grin of his could have been heart-stopping. His sharply defined lips lifted lazily at one corner to reveal gleaming white teeth, deep creases bracketing his mouth. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
148
" Hunter!” She tried to shove the leather down. “Someone might come!”
“No one comes.”
Fascinated, he touched the rosy tip of her nipple with his dark fingers, watching it harden and thrust upward, begging for attention--attention he was more than willing to give it. Dipping his head, he flicked the tip of his tongue across the peak, then seized it with his teeth.
She gasped and made fists in his hair. “Hunter?”
“Hm?” He moved to the unkissed breast. “What is it you want, little one?”
Her breath caught as his teeth closed on her. “I want to go.”
With skillful determination, Hunter continued the exquisite torment until the tips of her nipples throbbed, swollen and hot, against the end of his tongue.
“Hunter, please…” She moaned and drew him toward her, arching her hips against him. “Hunter…”
He obliged her and at last took her into his mouth. She cried out at the sharp pull, and he gloried in the sound, in the knowledge that he could make her surrender to him. After tending each breast, he started to kiss her lips, but she held tight to his hair, pulling him back to her nipple, arching up to meet his mouth. With a pleased chuckle, Hunter fulfilled the silent request, savoring the sweet taste of her. Then he kissed her parted lips.
Loretta opened her eyes and gazed up at her Comanche husband through a haze of longing. By degrees her pulse slowed, and her senses cleared. A tender smile curved his mouth.
“My heart is heavy to say these words, Blue Eyes, but someone may come. My woman who is without shame must wait, eh? "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
149
" Loretta Jane, if you’d like to come back in, Henry said you could. All you gotta do is apologize.”
Loretta glanced toward the rise again. Hunter would come. “Thank you, Aunt Rachel, but no. I’ve made my choice. Besides, he’d only say more things about Hunter, and I’d be out here again before I knew it.”
“You truly do love him, don’t you?” Rachel bunched her skirts in her fists and sat down, settling her back against the well. “Tell me. Help me understand.”
Loretta smiled. “Why I love him, you mean?” Her smile faded, and she sighed. “Oh, Aunt Rachel, how do you explain love? Hunter says it springs up from a hidden place, and I think he must be right. I sure didn’t set out to love him or even like him.” She shot Rachel a sidelong glance. “I hated Comanches worse than Uncle Henry, remember? But Hunter’s a good man, a wonderful man. What more can I say? "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
150
" Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, there’s Injuns in the yard!”
Loretta catapulted upward and landed on all fours in the middle of the bed. Peeking out over the windowsill, she looked at the yard and saw--just that: the yard. Not an Indian in sight. Amy reared back, her eyes the size of cow pies. Loretta skewered her with a murderous glare.
“Well, it might’ve worked.”
Relief made Loretta giddy. She flopped down on the mattress and hugged her pillow. Her heart felt as though it might pound its way up her throat. Hunter. When Amy had said Indians were outside, Loretta had pictured him as he had looked yesterday, high atop his horse with a hundred warriors behind him, his broad chest and corded arms rippling in the sunlight. She had never seen such fierce, burning eyes.
“I--Loretta, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you that bad a turn, honest. I was just funnin’ you.”
Loretta clenched her teeth and burrowed her face deeper into the pillow. She wanted to throttle Amy for her foolishness.
“Loretta, please, don’t be mad. I never thought you’d believe me. Where’s your sense of humor? You don’t really think that ol’ Injun will come back? What would an Injun want with a skinny runt like you? They like fat, brown girls who smear bear grease all over themselves. You’re probably downright ugly to his way of thinkin’, the drabbest-lookin’ female he ever saw. No gee-gaws. Stinky, too, with that lavender smell on you. And no creepy-crawlies in your hair.”
Loretta kept her face buried, determined not to laugh.
“And sayin’ he liked you? There ain’t no such thing as a polite Comanche. He wouldn’t buy you! He’d just steal you. He came to look at you, that’s all. Maybe he thought he had a hankerin’ for ya and decided different once he got here.”
Turning her head, Loretta cracked an eye, smothering a grin.
“Come to think of it, you do look sort of pitiful,” Amy teased. “That’s probably why he rode off. He took one look and got such a fright, he still ain’t stopped runnin’. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
153
" Loretta opened her eyes and gazed up at her Comanche husband through a haze of longing. By degrees her pulse slowed, and her senses cleared. A tender smile curved his mouth.
“My heart is heavy to say these words, Blue Eyes, but someone may come. My woman who is without shame must wait, eh?”
She groped to jerk her blouse down. Hunter reared back to let her sit up, his eyes twinkling with mischief. She straightened her clothes, keeping her pink face averted. Taking her hand, he rose and led her up the bank, wishing they were a bit farther from home so he could finish what he had begun without running the risk of company.
“We will go to my lodge, yes? I will make you happy there where no one can see.”
She slugged his shoulder. “You did that on purpose!”
He laughed and tucked her under one arm to hold her close to his side as they walked. When they came within sight of the village, she drew away. A guilty flush dotted her cheeks. Hunter threw back his head and laughed. She retaliated by grabbing up a handful of pebbles to throw at him. Her aim was terrible, but Hunter ran out of throw’s reach anyway--until her ammunition was exhausted. Then he doubled back, charging, so he could reach her before she gathered more rocks.
She shrieked and fled. His longer legs quickly closed the distance between them. He swept her off her feet and tossed her over his shoulder, clamping one arm across the backs of her knees. Playfully she pummeled his back. Just as playfully he ran his free hand up her skirt and gave her bottom a light pinch.
All in all, Hunter decided, it had been a good day. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
154
" After Hunter lowered her onto her fur pallet, which she was swiftly coming to regard as her prison, she clutched the buffalo robe around her and rolled onto her side. Make no grief behind you. She felt like an animal caught in a snare--awaiting the trapper and certain death.
The sun burned through her closed eyelids, red and hot. Loretta heard Hunter walk a short distance away, heard him murmur something. His stallion nickered in response. She lifted her lashes and watched the Comanche go through the contents of a parfleche. He withdrew her ruffled drawers, the buckskin shirt he had worn to the farm yesterday morning, and a drawstring pouch. As he walked back to her, he pressed her bloomers to his nose and sniffed.
He met her gaze as he drew the lavender-scented cloth away from his face. For the first time, he smiled a genuine smile. It warmed his expression so briefly that she might have believed she imagined it but for the twinkle that remained in his dark eyes as he knelt beside her. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
155
" This stallion says hi, hites, how are you, my friend.” He ran a muscular arm around the black’s neck, moving in close to his shoulder. “He is son to my friend who is dead. Breathe into him so he will know your smell and remember with no horizon.”
The thought of kissing a horse wasn’t particularly appealing, but after witnessing the Comanche’s rapport with his other stallion, she couldn’t argue that he knew better than she how to communicate with them. She bent over and exhaled close to the black’s muzzle. The horse sniffed and nibbled her face, nickering and blowing. Loretta gave a startled laugh and reared back, scrubbing her mouth with her sleeve. She glanced up to find the Comanche smiling. Her laughter trailed away, and she felt suddenly self-conscious. His large, sandpapery palm still enfolded hers, and the contact made her heart skitter.
His fingers tightened. “You like?”
“I--um, yes, he’s wonderful. His left ear isn’t notched like so many of the others. Why is that?”
“The notched ear says a horse is gentled. He is not. If another puts hands upon him, he fights the big fight.”
“Then how can I ride him?”
“You will be his good friend. Come close.”
Loretta stepped back instead. “But he’s wild.”
Tightening his hold on her hand, Hunter tugged her forward. “He is friend to me and no other, eh? He carries me because he wishes it. Now, he will carry you. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
156
" Stay back!” she cried.
“I come. Choose your mark, Blue Eyes, and drive the blade deep. You have one strike.” When he was within arm’s reach of her, she made a lunge, arcing the knife at his chest. Hunter deflected the blow, swallowing down cold, mind-numbing anger. She meant to kill him? No matter how frightened she was, he couldn’t believe it of her, couldn’t believe how much the realization hurt him. He wrested the weapon from her hands and tossed it to Swift Antelope, tempted to shake her until her teeth rattled. After all he had done, how dare she turn on him?
“Take Aye-mee to my mother’s lodge, Swift Antelope.”
Loretta staggered backward, holding her arms out to keep him away from the unconscious child. “No! Stay away from her. She stays with me.”
“Not this night,” Hunter snarled. “You have a bargain to keep, eh?”
She shrank from his outstretched hand. “To hell with our bargain, you animal! I’ll die before I let you put your filthy hands on me.”
“Then sing your death song.”
With that, he grabbed Loretta’s wrist, jerked her half off her feet, and proceeded to drag her behind him toward his horse. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
157
" Now they were married, even in the eyes of her people. For forever.
The thought panicked her as she pushed her dress down her hips and stood to step out of it. She would have to go through this disgusting ritual not just once, but thousands of times. Now she wished she hadn’t tricked him into promising he would take only one wife. Plural marriage might have its benefits. With several wives he might lose track of her in the shuffle and never bother with her…
Watching Loretta, Hunter swallowed an amused chuckle. She looked like a little field mouse about to be eaten by a great hawk. Her blue eyes were enormous and brilliant with fear. A flush crept up her pale neck, as pink as-- His gaze dropped to her chemise. Through the thin muslin, he could see the shadowy peaks of her nipples. His belly knotted with longing. Cactus blossoms and moonbeams. Perhaps she was right to feel like a small creature about to be devoured. He yearned to possess her, to suckle her breasts, to nibble tantalizing paths along her thighs, to find the sensitive places on her body and tease them with his tongue and light caresses from his fingertips until her passion peaked.
As she struggled with the ribbon sash that held up her petticoat, her hands growing more tremulous by the second, Hunter’s amusement changed to a tenderness that nearly overwhelmed him. Though painfully afraid, she was going to honor her promise and give herself to him. His throat tightened, nearly closing off his breath. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
159
" Loretta opened her eyes and gazed up at her Comanche husband through a haze of longing. By degrees her pulse slowed, and her senses cleared. A tender smile curved his mouth.
“My heart is heavy to say these words, Blue Eyes, but someone may come. My woman who is without shame must wait, eh?”
She groped to jerk her blouse down. Hunter reared back to let her sit up, his eyes twinkling with mischief. She straightened her clothes, keeping her pink face averted. Taking her hand, he rose and led her up the bank, wishing they were a bit farther from home so he could finish what he had begun without running the risk of company.
“We will go to my lodge, yes? I will make you happy there where no one can see.”
She slugged his shoulder. “You did that on purpose! "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
160
" After Hunter lowered her onto her fur pallet, which she was swiftly coming to regard as her prison, she clutched the buffalo robe around her and rolled onto her side. Make no grief behind you. She felt like an animal caught in a snare--awaiting the trapper and certain death.
The sun burned through her closed eyelids, red and hot. Loretta heard Hunter walk a short distance away, heard him murmur something. His stallion nickered in response. She lifted her lashes and watched the Comanche go through the contents of a parfleche. He withdrew her ruffled drawers, the buckskin shirt he had worn to the farm yesterday morning, and a drawstring pouch. As he walked back to her, he pressed her bloomers to his nose and sniffed.
He met her gaze as he drew the lavender-scented cloth away from his face. For the first time, he smiled a genuine smile. It warmed his expression so briefly that she might have believed she imagined it but for the twinkle that remained in his dark eyes as he knelt beside her.
He dropped the clothing onto the fur and held up the pouch. “Bear fat for the burn. You will lie on your face.”
Their gazes locked, laughter still shimmering in his. Seconds dragged by, measured by the wild thumping of her heart. He wanted to rub her down? Oh, God, what was she going to do? She clutched the fur more tightly.
Hunter shrugged as if her defiance bothered him not at all and tossed down the pouch. “You are sure enough not smart, Blue Eyes. You will lie on your face,” he said softly. “Don’t fight the big fight. If my strong arm fails me, I will call my friends. And in the end, you will lie on your face.”
Loretta imagined sixty warriors swooping down on her. As if he needed more of an advantage. Hatred and helpless rage made her tremble. Hunter watched her, his expression unreadable as he waited. She wanted to fly at him, scratching and biting. Instead she loosened her hold on the buffalo robe and rolled onto her stomach.
As she pressed her face into the stench-ridden buffalo fur, tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling and tickling in the crevices at each side of her nose. She clamped her arms to her sides and lay rigid, expecting him to jerk back the robe. Shame swept over her in hot, rolling waves as she imagined all those horrible men looking at her.
She felt the fur shift and braced herself. His greased palm touched her back and slid downward with such agonizing slowness that her skin shriveled and her buttocks quivered. So focused was she on his touch, on the shame of it, that several seconds passed before she realized he had slipped his arm beneath the fur, that no one, not even he, could see her. "
― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)
