she held out her arms and welcomed his weight over her. Soft, tender murmurs filled her ears, making her feel beautiful. And when he was poised at her entrance, waiting for her to open to him, she felt cherished.
Loved.
Slowly her knees fell apart, and her legs lifted to draw him to her. With a deep sigh, he entered her, then together they flew through the air as one, breathing as one, reaching ecstasy as one. “I love you,” she cried when the world around her spun out of control.
A long while later, after she’d dressed, Emily set to cooking their meal. Every so often she glanced at her warrior. He watched her. He touched her. But he didn’t speak to her. Yet that was all right. She talked enough for the two of them.
“I missed cooking for you.” She grinned and ran an appreciative eye over his body.
“I also missed touching you,” she added. His gaze met hers, his eyes darkening as if he understood, but he didn’t speak or return the words she wished he could. Yet the heated look in his eyes spoke louder than words.
“You understand by my tone, my voice. I know you do.” She went to him, knelt before him and touched his face, running her fingers across his high cheekbones and lightly over his lips.
“I love you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me.”
Her warrior set his arrow and knife down and pulled her onto his lap, where he rocked with her. “The food,” she protested with a laugh.
The food waited.
Swift Foot resumed his arrow making but his attention kept wandering. His gaze strayed to Emily, to her hair. Those white-yellow strands still mesmerized him even after all this time. When she glanced over at him and smiled, heat settled in his groin. From deep within, he vibrated with a need so strong his hands shook. How had this happened? All his efforts to hold her at bay and keep his distance had failed. Even worse, he delayed his return to his people by staying with her.
A sharp pang in the center of his chest grew. He turned his eyes to the ripening land barely discernible in the dimming light. Unrest and worry clouded his mind and filled his heart with dread. He felt as though he stood on an unstable ridge, the earth crumbling beneath his feet.
The peace he’d found with this woman, the relationship they shared was in his mind like that between Wi and Hanwi. Sun needed Moon to be complete. Without both of them, the world would not be the same. He closed his eyes, trying hard to suppress the emotions raging inside. But he knew deep in his heart that without Emily he would not be the same—just as he knew that soon this nice little world he’d created and shrouded himself in would come to an end.
Trying to keep his mind from his troubling thoughts, Swift Foot attempted to concentrate on making new arrows. He placed the quill of a feather in his teeth, grabbed hold of the top and pulled one side of the feather out, down and back, using constant pressure and speed to prevent ripping the vane.
Emily walked past, her hips swaying, her hair swinging, drawing his hungry gaze to her. His attention on her and not the feather, he went too fast and tore the vane. It was the third he’d ruined. Disgusted at his inability to concentrate, he tossed the feathers aside and gave up. Instead, he forced himself to face his future.
The truth could no longer be denied. Or hidden. Or avoided. Already he’d been gone far longer than he’d planned. His people would be worried, for he was to be their next chief as soon as his ailing uncle stepped down. His tribe was small, and many of their strong warriors were gone, killed in battle. They needed a strong leader. They needed him.
The council had recognized the need of their people, yet they also worried that Swift Foot was too young, too filled with the restless abandon of youth despite his many achievements. Fearful that their tribe would soon be wiped out, they’d agreed to his becoming chief—on one condition: he must
Loved.
Slowly her knees fell apart, and her legs lifted to draw him to her. With a deep sigh, he entered her, then together they flew through the air as one, breathing as one, reaching ecstasy as one. “I love you,” she cried when the world around her spun out of control.
A long while later, after she’d dressed, Emily set to cooking their meal. Every so often she glanced at her warrior. He watched her. He touched her. But he didn’t speak to her. Yet that was all right. She talked enough for the two of them.
“I missed cooking for you.” She grinned and ran an appreciative eye over his body.
“I also missed touching you,” she added. His gaze met hers, his eyes darkening as if he understood, but he didn’t speak or return the words she wished he could. Yet the heated look in his eyes spoke louder than words.
“You understand by my tone, my voice. I know you do.” She went to him, knelt before him and touched his face, running her fingers across his high cheekbones and lightly over his lips.
“I love you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me.”
Her warrior set his arrow and knife down and pulled her onto his lap, where he rocked with her. “The food,” she protested with a laugh.
The food waited.
Swift Foot resumed his arrow making but his attention kept wandering. His gaze strayed to Emily, to her hair. Those white-yellow strands still mesmerized him even after all this time. When she glanced over at him and smiled, heat settled in his groin. From deep within, he vibrated with a need so strong his hands shook. How had this happened? All his efforts to hold her at bay and keep his distance had failed. Even worse, he delayed his return to his people by staying with her.
A sharp pang in the center of his chest grew. He turned his eyes to the ripening land barely discernible in the dimming light. Unrest and worry clouded his mind and filled his heart with dread. He felt as though he stood on an unstable ridge, the earth crumbling beneath his feet.
The peace he’d found with this woman, the relationship they shared was in his mind like that between Wi and Hanwi. Sun needed Moon to be complete. Without both of them, the world would not be the same. He closed his eyes, trying hard to suppress the emotions raging inside. But he knew deep in his heart that without Emily he would not be the same—just as he knew that soon this nice little world he’d created and shrouded himself in would come to an end.
Trying to keep his mind from his troubling thoughts, Swift Foot attempted to concentrate on making new arrows. He placed the quill of a feather in his teeth, grabbed hold of the top and pulled one side of the feather out, down and back, using constant pressure and speed to prevent ripping the vane.
Emily walked past, her hips swaying, her hair swinging, drawing his hungry gaze to her. His attention on her and not the feather, he went too fast and tore the vane. It was the third he’d ruined. Disgusted at his inability to concentrate, he tossed the feathers aside and gave up. Instead, he forced himself to face his future.
The truth could no longer be denied. Or hidden. Or avoided. Already he’d been gone far longer than he’d planned. His people would be worried, for he was to be their next chief as soon as his ailing uncle stepped down. His tribe was small, and many of their strong warriors were gone, killed in battle. They needed a strong leader. They needed him.
The council had recognized the need of their people, yet they also worried that Swift Foot was too young, too filled with the restless abandon of youth despite his many achievements. Fearful that their tribe would soon be wiped out, they’d agreed to his becoming chief—on one condition: he must
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