“Well, we might be here for a while,” he said. “Let’s make the best of it.”
He pulled a fabric pouch of venison jerky from his pack, unlaced it, and handed her a piece. As she reached for it, their fingers brushed, and a curious tingling sensation went through him. He drew his hand back. How strange that her touch would stir such sensations. Or perhaps not so strange. He hadn’t been alone with a woman since before the death of his precious wife, Lupine. His body remembered the texture of a woman’s flesh, despite his soul’s diligent attempts to forget.
He concentrated on his jerky. Smoky richness coated his tongue.
The Thunderbirds took the storm to the southeast and waving tendrils of rain blotted out the Bearclaw Mountains. Lightning continued to flash as the fire burned out beneath them. The downpour lessened to a steady patter. On the opposite rim of the canyon, a small herd of buffalo ran. From here they resembled black dots against a sage-sprinkled background.
“Buffalo,” he said reverently. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them so close to the canyon.”
Night Sun followed his gaze and frowned.
“When I was a boy,” Ironwood said, “my father used to take me out to watch the herds. We never hunted them, because there were so few left around our home; we just sat on the hilltops and watched. During mating season, they touch each other very tenderly—did you know that?” She didn’t respond, and he continued, “The bull nuzzles the cow with his head, and she rubs her shoulder along his side. And they play all the time, running and leaping and twisting in midair.” He laughed. “Even when they butt heads, it’s rarely combat, but more an enjoyable contest of wills.” He chewed another bite of jerky.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you miss them?”
“Oh, yes, very much. I miss their loose-limbed walk and the way they toss their shaggy heads when they run.” Ironwood paused. “Most of all, I miss looking into their eyes.”
“Their eyes?” The anger had faded from her voice, but she still sounded hesitant.
Ironwood nodded and bowed his head. “It’s not easy to explain, but … the Creator lives in their eyes. I always saw Her looking out at me.”
Night Sun frowned down at the smoldering desert. Wisps of smoke struggled against the rain.
Ironwood took another drink of water, washing down the last of his jerky.
Night Sun sat silently, perhaps wondering at her War Chief’s sentimentality. Unease stiffened his spine. He barely knew her. Perhaps he should not have revealed such … softness.
When she folded her long legs under her and turned to face him, Ironwood immediately glanced up. Night Sun gave him an apologetic look.
“Forgive me,” she said. “After the past three days you must think me cruel, but I—”
“No, not at all. I think you’re angry with your husband for ordering me to spy on you.” He gestured awkwardly. “I would be, too, if I were you.”
She scooped a handful of sand from the floor, letting it trickle through her fingers. Wind gusted into the shelter, and a lock of black hair worked loose from her braid and fluttered over her large eyes.
Ironwood’s gaze traced the smooth line of her jaw before coming back to her eyes. He found Night Sun watching him—and something in her expression made his stomach muscles go tight. She looked … determined, as though she had decided something and was silently asking questions about it. Questions he did not understand.…
As though in a dream, she bent forward and pressed her lips to his. Confused, in shock, he just sat there. Thunder rumbled over the canyon and lightning glittered across the sky. Night Sun slid closer and slipped her arms around his waist.
“N-Night Sun, please don’t—”
She covered his mouth with hers, and her kisses grew insistent. A warm tide coursed through his veins. The sheer intensity of it frightened him. Ironwood lifted his arms and left them suspended uncertainly in midair. Blood pounded deafeningly in his ears. Night Sun’s embrace tightened, and her breasts against his chest left him shaking.
Leaning forward, she pushed him to the floor of the rock shelter, and he felt her tears running warmly down his cheeks as she stretched out on top of him. Her whole body shuddered from silent sobs.
He took her face firmly in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Why are you doing this? To hurt your husband?”
Night Sun sank against him, burying her face in his long hair. “More to hurt myself, I think.”
Her tears trickled down Ironwood’s neck. The answer went straight to his heart. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her back. A friendly gesture, nothing more. “Why would you wish to do that?”