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“You don’t carry it, Debra? Would it be wise to keep it by your side?”
She turned to him and her gaze was level. “Not with you here. No one will approach me as long as you stay.” Her smile teased him. “I consider you a form of insurance against predators.”
“And when I’m gone?”
Her head drooped and he thought her shoulders sagged a bit, as if she were troubled by that thought. And then she straightened and her chin lifted, perhaps with pride.
“I’ll be as I was before you got here. Alone, but able to care for myself and what is mine.”
He reached out to her, his fingers brushing the fine skin of her cheek and she inhaled sharply, her eyes widening as if she would withdraw from his touch. He would not allow it, but stepped closer, curving his palm against her face and turning her to better see the expression she wore.
“What if I stayed, Debra? What if I made this my home, and you…” He took a breath, knowing she might flee from his words. “What if we were to marry? Could you spend your life with me, knowing of my past? Knowing I’ve taken a life?”
The words fell between them and she twisted from his touch, her eyes wide with panic, as if she feared him. He would not have it. She had not feared him, had not flinched from his presence in weeks, and now she acted as if he had grown horns.
“Don’t pull away from me,” he said harshly. “I’m still the same man I was ten minutes ago, Debra. I’m not going to pounce on you or hurt you in any way. I thought you knew me well enough by now not to fear me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t fear you. My hesitation is not because you’ve taken a life, for I know you were justified in what you did. I just can’t accept the idea of marriage to a white man. Nor to a man of my mother’s people, for that matter. I will live my life alone.”
“Why?” His question was bold, he knew, but his need to know her thoughts was heavy on him. “Why can’t you be my wife? I wouldn’t expect more of you than what you give me gladly. I’m not a harsh man, nor will I change overnight if you bear my name. I’m free of hindrance, with no family to tie me. And I’m a hard worker, surely you’ve seen that. I wouldn’t be a bad husband.”
Her eyes were dark, black with what appeared to be fear, and he failed to understand what she dreaded. “Do I frighten you, Debra?” And if she nodded, he would mount his horse and leave, for the thought of her fear made him feel less than a man.
She placed the flat of her hand on his chest, and he felt the warmth of it radiate throughout his body. Unmoving, she measured him with her gaze, her eyes taking stock of his face, his arms, the length of his legs and the width of his chest where her palm had laid claim to the body beneath it.
“Your heartbeat is strong,” she said quietly. “It is the beat of an honest heart, Tyler, and you are an honest man. I can not deny that. You have been good to me, you’ve worked for me and taken hold as if this were your own place.” Her tongue touched her upper lip as if she hesitated to speak further and he held his breath, for surely her words would frame his future.
His hand lifted to cover hers and he felt the warmth of long fingers and the fragile bones of a woman beneath his touch. “I would take you as my wife, Debra, if you agree. I’ll work for you and provide for you as a husband, and if I’m hunted down, I’ll leave you as I found you. You won’t bear shame because of my past.”
“You will expect to share my bed.” It was a statement of fact, not a query, and he considered it as such. Her mouth trembled as he watched, the first sign of feminine weakness she’d shown in his presence. His index finger rose to touch the line of her upper lip and he caressed it carefully.
“Yes.” It was a single word, but it spoke volumes, and he recognized her hesitation for what it was. She had not known a man’s body, and feared being used as a wife.
He watched his hand, saw the trembling of his fingers as they spread once more against her cheek. “I need you as a man needs a woman, but I won’t take what you hold dear. Unless you offer your body to me, I’ll do without the comfort of your woman’s flesh.”
“Men aren’t usually so willing to—” Her voice broke off as if she could not bring herself to speak the words that filled her throat.
“I’m not most men.” He bent to her, lifting her chin with his palm and touched her lips with his own, brushing lightly against the softness he found there. “I would treasure the kiss you give me,” he said softly.
Her lips were a temptation he found it almost impossible to turn from and he coaxed her gently, his own opening but slightly, not wanting to frighten her with the desire that filled him. She was soft, gently formed, and he had been long without a woman in his arms. Not since his wife’s death had he yearned so for the pleasure to be found in the depths of a female’s body.
And now his yearning was great, his arousal prominent and obvious as he pressed her against himself. His arms around her were firm and she accepted his touch, leaning against him as if his heat drew her. His hand slipped down her back, pressing her closer, and he felt her warmth enclose his need.
It was all he could do not to hold himself against her more firmly, but he knew she would be frightened if he kept her captive, and so he relaxed his arms a bit, offering her the space to move from him.
Debra felt her body still, knew a moment of fear as she sensed his man’s arousal against her belly. She’d not known the feel of a man’s flesh, but knew the look of a man before he takes a woman to his bed. The braves of her mother’s tribe had made no secret of their prowess with the women of the tribe, and more than one had come to her mother and offered himself to her.
It had frightened the girl who watched, and she’d buried her head in her bedding as the sounds of a man using her mother had hammered into her memory. Now she knew the body of an aroused man for herself, knew the feel of his need for her and felt a returning desire for his touch.
“You’re a virgin, Debra, and I would not hurt you or take you to bed unless you become my wife first.” His words penetrated her sense of fear and she relaxed against him. “Does my need for you frighten you, little bird?”
She nodded, once, and then stood with her face buried against his chest. Her words were soft, poignant, and her voice faltered as she spoke. “I saw the men of my mother’s tribe. One of them came to her while I lay nearby.” She could not continue, and her voice broke.
“It was not for a child to see or hear such a thing,” he said roughly. “You didn’t understand what was happening, and you were but a child, too young to be exposed to your mother’s—”
“She wasn’t willing, but he took her anyway,” Debra said. “I heard her cry when he used her body, and he laughed at her, told her she was but a woman and good for nothing else.”
“And did you believe what he said?” Tyler held her close, wanting only to cherish the young child she had been and the woman she was now.
“I suppose I did then,” she admitted. “For I knew no better. But now I know that he only tried to shame her in order to make himself look more a man.”
“He was less than a man, to take a woman without her yielding to him gladly,” Tyler said softly. “He had no right. Men have no rights but those a woman gives them.”
“You come from a different world than I. Women are not cherished by men in my remembrance, all but my father, and the way he was with my mother when I was a child.”
“Then try to remember that and forget the rest,” Tyler told her. “Recall only the good things that happened in your life, the family you lived with here on your father’s farm, the good times you shared with him and your mother. He must have loved you to leave you his land. He must have known you would care for it and keep it as it was.”
“My mother said he loved me.” It seemed but little for a woman to cherish, the secondhand knowledge of her father’s love, but it was obviously a comfort to the woman he held, and Tyler added what warmth he could to the knowledge she held so dear.
His arms were strong, his body warm, and she nestled against him as if she’d come home. Her breath was shattered as she inhaled deeply, the sound faltering, as if she suppressed tears, and he would not shame her by acknowledging her sadness.
“Marry me, Debra. Be my wife, little nightbird. You may not feel any desire for me now, but it will come, I promise you. One day you’ll want me as I want you.”
She tipped her head back and met his gaze, her eyes dark with a look he dared hope might be desire for him. His mouth touched hers again and his kiss was welcomed, her own lips warm against his, her breath sweet. He did not press for more, only the touch of her flesh comforting his own.
Her arms slipped around his neck and she pressed her body closer to his, fitting herself to the length of him, her breasts against his chest, allowing his hips to nestle in the cradle of her own. And if his arousal frightened her, she did not draw back from him, only shifted a bit as though she wondered at the pressure of his manhood against her.
His mouth lifted from hers, his lips closed, for he would not frighten her with his passion, knowing she would fear the touch of his tongue should he use it to force his way into the warmth of her mouth. She clung to him, her hands strong as she held the nape of his neck, her body conforming to the shape of his own.
“You give yourself sweetly,” he said, his voice a low hum in her ear. “I can barely keep from lying you on the ground and taking you for my own.”
She shook her head, rubbing it on his chest, denying his need. “I don’t think I can do as you want, Tyler. My mother told me once that there is pain when a man takes a woman for the first time, that his path is not smooth, that he must forge a way into her body that gives her only pain.”
“There is pain in that,” he admitted. “But it is overcome by the pleasure to follow, if a man is careful, if he is gentle and cares for the woman he beds.” His hands touched her sides, measuring her waist and the width of her hips, then met at her back, soothing the line of her spine with tender strokes.
“I would be gentle with you, little bird. I would not cause you pain if it can be helped.”
She trembled against him, and he knew her fear was real, that she held memories of a time long past, when she had been exposed to the dark side of a man’s needs.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY SPOKE NO MORE of the offering he’d made to her, Debra only thinking of it, considering the idea of being the mate of a man such as Tyler. And at that, she hesitated, recognizing that she only knew him by that name, and not even certain if it were his first or last.
Tyler. She spoke it beneath her breath, and yet he heard her, for his head came up and he made her aware of his presence. He was near her on the porch, his arm resting on his knee as he sat leaning against the post near the steps. His gaze was dark, and she wondered what it held, for he gave little away, only looked on her as a man might look at a woman he considered to be available.
His eyes touched her but lightly, as if he would not show his desire for her, and yet it lingered there, a potent presence between them. For he’d spoken it aloud, only a day ago, when he’d asked her to consider marriage to him.
Her answer hovered on the tip of her tongue, and she held it quiet, for trust did not come easily to her. He’d done as he said, had given her no reason to doubt his word, had not made any approach to her person but for those few minutes behind the barn, when he’d held her close.
Still, she hesitated, for to accept the man as her mate would allow him access to her bed, and she didn’t know if she could accept that. If she could give him her body as he would expect her to. For men were not prone to patience, she knew. The men of her mother’s tribe had proved that with their pursuit of the women they wanted. She’d been apart from all of that, protected by the mixed blood that flowed in her veins.
But no such protection existed now. For this man knew what she was, knew the shame she bore from her mixed heritage and cared little for that stain on her worth. He seemed to look at her as a female who appealed to him, who caused his passions to rise in his body. A woman he would wed and call by his name.
Then she would be…Debra Tyler? Somehow she didn’t think that was his name. That knowledge spurred her to the query that sprang from her lips.
“What is your name? Truly your name,” she asked, looking at the man who sat with such a relaxed demeanor on her porch. His arm did not shift, his leg did not straighten at her words, and he sat as he was, only moving his head to better see her expression.
“You don’t like calling me Tyler?” His mouth twisted in a grin that made her smile in return.
“It’s a fine name. I just don’t think that’s all there is to it,” she answered, knowing that she was right in her assumption. Knowing that he teased her by his words.
“You may be right,” he said quietly. “On the day you marry me, I’ll tell you the rest of it. Will that be enough to merit an answer from you?”
“You’re a determined man, aren’t you?”
“And you are as equally determined, Nightsong. Shall I know your name also?”
“My father’s name was David. I didn’t know his last name until he died. My mother only called him David and I was too young to care about any other name but my own. I’ve been Debra Nightsong my whole life. I never took his name.”
“And what was it?”
“David Thornley. I found it on the deed to this place when my mother gave it to me. I suppose I could have taken his name then, but I didn’t. I’ve always been more Indian than white anyway, and there seemed no reason to change what I’m known by.”
“I like your name. It sings to me.”
She was silent, amazed at his words. That this strong man should be willing to speak his thoughts to her so plainly was more revealing than he could know. It sings to me. The beauty of the phrase determined her in that moment and she stood from her chair to face him boldly.
“I will marry you, Tyler. No matter your name, no matter your past, I will marry you and be your wife. I can’t make any promises to you, other than this. I’ll do my best to be a good wife to you. I’ll work hard to make this a thriving farm for both of us, and I’ll be faithful to you.”
He seemed stunned, his eyes wide, his look one of surprise, and then he smiled, and it was as if the sunlight had come to dwell in that expression of his joy.
“I’ll accept your word, Nightsong. I expect no more from you than what you are willing to give me. If you say you’ll be my wife, that you will work with me to make this place a success, I’ll believe you, and honor your faith in me.”
He raised his body from the step he’d claimed as his seat and rose to face her. His hand reached for hers and he held it firmly, lifting it to his lips. His mouth touched the backs of her fingers, then turned it within his grasp and kissed the palm—a soft, sweet caress that spoke silently of his need for her.
She allowed his touch, indeed welcomed it, for she’d thought of little else since the day he’d first kissed her. Now she wondered if he knew that his kiss was the first she’d shared with a man. And if he did, had he thought her worthy of his attention? Had she responded as he’d wanted?
The questions flew through her mind, and his words put them all to rest as he drew her close to himself, his arms encircling her waist, his hands lying flat against her back. “You are untouched, little bird, a woman without the knowledge of a man, and I’ll treat you as such. I promise you that I’ll be a good husband to you, that you’ll not regret accepting me into your life…and, in time, into your bed.”
“In time?” She couldn’t believe that was her voice, speaking those simple words, repeating his vow to her. The sound seemed too soft, too gentle for the voice of Debra Nightsong, for she’d always been strong and her voice that of a woman of courage. Now she sounded as if she were an unknowing child, asking for explanation of his simple words.
He seemed to understand her need, for he smiled down at her, his hands making soothing movements against her back. “Perhaps not as much time as you want, Debra, but as much as I’m able to give you. I’ll be patient with you for I’m smart enough to recognize that you’re a stranger to the meaning of the marriage bed.”
“I know nothing but what my mother told me of men,” she said simply. “She might have given me instructions of my duty to a husband if she hadn’t died so young, but as it was I came here to the farm as a girl, not yet a woman, and probably not ready to hear such things.”
“Don’t girls of your tribe marry young?” he asked, wondering that no young man had craved her attention during her growing-up years.
“Many of them long before my age,” she said, nodding as if she remembered such things happening. “But my mother kept me away from the men who would have asked for me. She said I was too young to have a husband.”
“And she was right.” Tyler’s voice was strong, his words definite, as if he were thankful for the intelligence of her mother.
“I’m glad she protected me,” Debra said softly, remembering the woman who had cared for her during those years with her tribe. “She taught me to cook, and sew my clothing. My father had shown me how to skin and gut a rabbit. I suppose I could do the same with a deer, but I’ve never shot one. I didn’t know what I’d do with all that meat, and so I just use whatever I can barter with my neighbors for. And I sacrifice a chicken once in a while.”
“On the altar of your hunger?” he asked, his face sober, while his eyes laughed with pleasure at her words.
She smiled, pleased at his humor. “I guess you could say that. Although I’m not often hungry.”
His look was critical. “I’ve noticed. You’re entirely too slim. Almost thin, in fact.”
“Thank you,” she said, and frowned as she recognized that her tone was as chilled as a December morning. “I’ll try to add some weight to make you happy.”
Allowing a grin to curl his lips, he shook his head at her. “You don’t need to do anything but breathe to make me happy, sweetheart. I’ll take you just the way you are, and as often as possible.”
What he’d meant by that remark was a puzzle, she thought, allowing her mind to repeat his words silently.
“You look like I’ve said something to upset you, and I didn’t mean to. I was only being—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m not upset, though I’ll admit I don’t understand some of the things you say. I’m afraid I’m a simple soul, Tyler. You’ll have to speak plainly to get through to me.” Her hands pushed at his chest and she stepped away from him, from the hold he’d managed to maintain on her waist.
But even that small move didn’t keep him from her, for his face darkened, as if with anger, and yet he was not harsh as he reached for her again. Perhaps it was fear that spoke aloud, maybe only the innocence she hated, even as she acknowledged its presence.
“Don’t manhandle me, Tyler. I’ve never allowed any man to put his hands on me. And you’ll not be given that privilege, either. Until I marry you, you’ll let me be.”
“Wrong, Nightsong.” His eyes narrowed as he scanned her form, his gaze seeming to dwell on each small part of her, and she felt her breasts beneath her clothing, knew they swelled to fill the fabric of her chemise. His hands were warm against her waist, his long fingers resting just beneath the heaviness of her breasts. He had no right, no reason to treat her so. And she turned on him in anger.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to speak of marriage any longer. Allowing you into my bed doesn’t seem like such a good idea, and unless I miss my guess, you think I’m going to submit to whatever you have in mind for me.”
“All this because I like to touch you?” he asked, his smile lacking humor.
“Is that what you call it? I had to put up with your shenanigans the first few days you were here, Tyler. I’ve managed to get you out of my bed and onto the floor, and unless I change my mind in the near future, that’s where you’ll stay.”
“I don’t think so.”
As a statement of intent it could not be bettered, she decided and she turned from him, the need to hide her tears of major importance right now. And why the man had the ability to make her shed those hated salty drops was beyond her. She only knew that she somehow allowed him to make her feel helpless, like a woman without strength to make her own choices. Debra Nightsong was not a woman to be subdued so easily.
“Have I frightened you again?” His words angered her and she felt her face burn with humiliation.
“You don’t frighten me. You never have. I fear no man, Tyler whoever you are.”
He grinned, the challenge of his frown, the dark anger he’d directed at her a thing of the past. “I think we’re having an argument, Nightsong. Our first, if I’m not mistaken. And I’d just as soon not be exchanging harsh words with you.”
“Then just be quiet and leave me alone.” She turned away, her hands peeling his from her body, and went into the house. The kitchen was dark but she knew her way well and walked across to the hallway and from there to her bedroom. In a house this small there was no trick to gaining the one room she could claim as her own and hope for privacy to be granted her.
The door closed with a solid sound behind her and she leaned against it, her mind spinning. She was so angry at him, and for the life of her she wasn’t sure why. He’d handled her as if it were his right, and that alone was enough to fire her temper. But his intentions were honorable, she’d stake her life on that fact. Yet, she could somehow not give her total acceptance to his proposal, for he asked more than she was willing or perhaps able to give him.
Behind her the door moved, and she recognized that he had lifted the latch, that he was putting his weight against it, moving her from her position. In mere seconds he would be trespassing in her domain—a domain he shared, she reminded herself. Yet, it was the only place she felt safe, and once he intruded, she would no longer have the privacy her heart craved.
“Step away from the door, Debra. I don’t want to hurt you when I push it open.”
