Her leg was throbbing; she must have injured it in the fall. Raising her skirt, she saw the cut on her knee. It was bleeding, and she wished she had a strip of her petticoat to tie around it.
Suddenly Makinna saw Tykota leap toward her, and she was shocked when he propelled her backward with such a force that he knocked her to the ground. Gripping her tightly, he fell with her, and they tumbled and rolled down a slight embankment into thick, gnarled foliage.
Thorns jabbed into her, but she was more aware of Tykota's body on top of hers, her fingers clutching his hard, muscled shoulders. When she caught her breath, she asked, "Why did you-"
Tykota clamped a hand over her mouth and nodded toward the top of the embankment. She heard the sound of horses, heard voices speaking a guttural language she did not understand.
It was the Apache!
Makinna lay trembling with fear, hoping they hadn't seen her. She was dimly conscious of sharp rocks digging into her skin, and the weight of Tykota's body cutting off her breathing. But when she shifted the merest bit, and he raised his head to look at her, like lightning striking, like a hammer against an anvil, she became aware of his body in an entirely new way. She felt the formidability of his strength, the swell of him against her thigh, and she was excruciatingly aware of his manliness. She could scarcely breathe when he rested his brow against hers, and his hand went up to tangle in her hair. Raw emotions tore through her body, and she knew he could feel it, too.
He stared at her, his eyes penetrating and fierce, as if she was the one woman he dare not love. Yet they might be mere moments away from death.
Makinna daringly placed a kiss on his bronze cheek.
Tykota's eyes flamed as if the sun was shining through them. His mouth was only a breath away from hers, and Makinna wanted to move that fraction of an inch that would bring their lips together. Even the threat of the Apaches seemed to fade from her mind. All she was aware of were the new feelings splintering through her body, and the man who had aroused those feelings in her.
Tykota's brow furrowed, and he tried to ease himself off her, but the movement tugged up her gown, exposing the smoothness of her thighs.
Makinna gasped, her eyes round with bewilderment, as wave after wave of heat surged through her. And she could tell by the way Tykota suddenly went rigid that he was fighting whatever feelings were stirring inside of him. He trembled with the tight restraint he tried to keep on his emotions.
Tykota gazed down at Makinna, ran a hand through her silken hair, and his heart raced. Like a man in a dream, he could not stop himself, could not control his own actions. He lowered his head, his mouth almost on hers. "Makinna," he whispered, his breath gently touching her lips. "Makinna."
She reached up, her fingers sliding though his thick hair. "Kiss me," she whispered.
A raw urgency built in the pit of his stomach and spread through his veins, his mind, his whole being. It didn't seem to matter that the Apache were nearby, or that they might die at any time. In that moment, she became his woman, his to protect, to love, to take. Just a kiss was all he wanted, or so he thought. But when his lips touched hers, he knew that would never be enough. His mouth ground against hers. His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, darting in and out, stirring the heat in his belly. He wanted to know her in every way a man can know a woman. He wanted to explore her hidden beauty and kiss every part of her body. Wild, primitive emotions tore through him, and he was on fire. He needed her more than the air he breathed.
Makinna smothered a groan as Tykota's mouth continued to plunder hers. She felt him harden against her thigh, and she trembled. His body seemed to shelter her, and she thought she would die from his nearness. Oh, what was this weakness she felt, this awakening of her body and spirit? Why did she wish the Apache would stay for a very long time so she could absorb the feel of Tykota Silverhom into her mind and body?
Suddenly, Tykota tore his mouth away from hers and stared at her lips, which were swollen from his kiss. "Makinna, I-"
He suddenly froze. Two of the Apache were moving down the ravine, and they were talking excitedly. Tykota glanced quickly at the ground where he had tackled with Makinna before rolling her into the bushes. He'd had no time to erase their footprints, which would be very apparent to the Apaches' experienced eyes.
Tykota knew that their only hope was the encroaching darkness. The sun had almost dropped behind the mountain, and that would make it more difficult to see the evidence of their presence.
By now, Makinna realized that the Apache were moving in their direction. Her eyes widened when Tykota reached down and clasped the handle of his knife.
She lay quietly, his body pressing against hers, his face only inches away, listening to the Apaches. The two warriors stopped so near them that Makinna could have reached out and touched one of them. She felt the bitter taste of fear in her mouth. She closed her eyes, sure that the Indians had discovered their hiding place.