His arm at her waist drew her so close, she could feel his heart pounding. He held her like that for a very long while, not moving, not speaking, the only sounds those of the fire and the wind and their muted breathing.

"I reckon I oughta let you go back inside. Mornin' will come early, and you need the rest. Tomorrow's gonna be a long and tryin' day."

Laura found herself wishing she could collect her baby and go with him now. She slid her hands to his chest and drew back slightly. "Yes, I suppose I should. Star and Black Stone may be waiting for me to come in before they go to bed."

He released her, drew the blanket from around her, and moved away. Laura hugged herself against the sudden chill.

He was grinning as he stepped around the fire to retrieve his strop and whetstone. Then, as though he had second thoughts, he left the stone lying where it was. As he straightened from picking up the strop, he wrapped each end of the leather around his fists, snapping it tight. A mischievous twinkle came into his eyes as he slowly walked back to her. Before Laura realized what he meant to do, he looped his arms over her head, placing the tightly stretched leather across her back to block her escape.

Stepping close, he whispered, "Seems to me like I made you a promise. Just so's you don't get to thinkin' I make a habit of breakin' my word, I'd best lay my strop across your fanny at least once before I leave."

With that, he lowered his arms until the leather was pulled tight across her backside. With a strength that unnerved her, he hauled her toward him. Laura braced her hands on his chest and leaned back to meet his gaze, which had darkened to a smoldering slate gray.

She could see he intended to kiss her, and heaven help her, she couldn't gather the presence of mind to avert her face. Her breath began to come in short, shallow bursts. He bent his head. His hair dipped low to trail over the backs of her fingers, and it felt just as she imagined it might, like the underside of silk, cool and slightly coarse. Beneath her palms, she could feel the muscles in his chest bunch and slacken every time he moved.

His lips touched hers as lightly as a moth wing. Laura wasn't certain what it was she had been expecting, but certainly not this. Heat and a contact that was nearly nonexistent. Expecting him to deepen the kiss at any moment, she braced for it. But it never came. Her lashes lowered over her eyes and her breathing abated while her heart began to slog, each beat a blow against her ribs. She could feel the hard welt of his arousal pressing against her through the layers of their clothing.

His lips still barely touching hers, he executed a silky, hot caress with his mouth, so light, so unassuming, it left her mind reeling. She was accustomed to men who ground their teeth against hers, who clamped their hands under her chin to force her jaws apart so they could gag her with slick, thrusting tongues. Men who demanded and forcefully took.

The whisper-light brush of Deke's mouth didn't even suggest a demand. A kiss? Or her imagination? An actual touch, or the mingled puffs of their breath stirring the air between them? It was madness, but Laura found herself feeling frustrated. Her lips parted slightly. Her lungs grabbed for oxygen. Her skin became electrified. She made fists in the cloth of his shirt and leaned slightly closer, expectant.

She could have sworn he drew back to keep that hairs-breadth of distance between their mouths. Then he completely disarmed her by kissing the tip of her nose, then its bridge, then her eyebrows. For the first time, Laura felt cherished. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her pent-up breath shuddered softly from her lungs on a wistful sigh. As though he meant to memorize every line, he traced her face with those featherlight lips, at the temple, along her cheek, at her ear, over the curve of her jaw.

Tantalized. It was the only way to describe how he made her feel. A stillness settled within hera breathless stillness, a sense of waiting and wanting, only she wasn't sure for what. If and when he did kiss her, it would be as it had been dozens of times before, a suffocating rub of saliva-slick mouths and blasts of sour breath that made her feel nauseated.

Only, Deke's breath smelled like steam from coffeerich and hot, the scent faint but ever so pleasing. And when his lips at last trailed back to hers, his mouth felt more silken than wet. Without conscious thought, Laura placed a quivery hand along his cheek and felt the hard play of muscle along his jaw. Her stomach went fluttery. He felt like heated steel everywhere she touched.

He startled her by nipping gently at her lower lip, the tug of his teeth pulling it into a pout, which he promptly suckled. Laura felt the draw clear to her toes and somehow wound up with her hand in his hair, her fingers clenched into a fist. Her lip still captured by the relentless pull of his mouth, he caught the distended flesh between his teeth and began flicking it lightly with his tongue.

Laura frantically reminded herself that he was toying only with her lip, but the suggestiveness of it made her think of his doing that to her elsewhere. The lady in her was shocked. The woman melted. Heat ... and silk ... steel ... and velvet. And madness. She abandoned her hold on his hair, stepped onto the tops of his mocassined feet to gain some height, and wrapped both arms around his columned neck.

He released her lip only to nip it sharply again with his teeth and soothe away the slight sting with the heat of his mouth. Laura moaned, and he breathed in the sound as he hauled her more snugly against him. His tongue darted past her teeth to engage hers in a flirtatious dance of advance and retreat, each contact so tantalizing that hers soon pressed forward for more. He dragged for the sensitive tissue behind her bottom teeth, teased the thread of flesh there, then trailed his tongue to the insides of her cheeks before flicking his way across her palate.

Laura had never been kissed so thoroughly, never dreamed she could be. In the back of her mind, she knew he would probably make love to her with the same boldness, that he would allow her no reticence, but if he made her feel like this when he did it, would she even be able to think, let alone care where he touched her, or how? She felt as if she had been swept into a swirling vortex where reason didn't dwell.

When he finally drew up for air, Laura felt completely disoriented. He hauled in a ragged breath, then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. She pressed her face into the cay of his neck and closed hers as well.

"I'll tell you, darlin', you got Mon'gehela beat hands down."

Mon'gehela? She felt as if she had stepped into the path of six galloping horses. Flattened. Yet exhilarated. He continued to hold her until both of them were breathing normally again. Then, very gently, he set her away from him, bent to brush his mouth lightly over hers in farewell, and whispered, "Tomorrow."

With that, he turned and walked away to become an obscure shadow in the firelit darkness. Laura gazed after him in numb disbelief. Tomorrow? She finally fixed her gaze on the flickering firelight, knowing that promise would follow her into the lodge and into sleep to become a whisper in her dreams.

Fifteen miles away in the lee of a deep draw, Francisco Gonzales sat cross-legged and stared sightlessly at the flickering flames of his own fire, his jaw muscle snapping with rage he couldn't vent. In the far reaches of light, disturbed earth and a pile of brush were constant reminders that he had been bested by a gringo and had lost three of his best men in the process. He and his remaining men had been combing the hills for over a week looking for their missing companeros. Now that they had finally found them, the evidence told its own story of ambush and death.

Gonzales was not a stupid man. He had eventually found the abandoned mine where the Cheney woman and her tracker had holed up. The tracks in that area told him that a large party of Cheyenne warriors had joined the pair there and had escorted them, one via litter, to the safety of the Cheyenne camp in Cougar Flats. Judging by things he had seen inside the mine, Gonzales assumed the woman had fallen ill.

There was only one gringo Gonzales knew of who was so friendly with the Cheyenne that he could signal them for help. Deke Sheridan. Was it any wonder three of Gonzales's best men lay dead? Sheridan was a dangerous man, as skilled at Indian warfare as he was at handling a six-shooter. Ah, yes, dangerous and very deadly.

Gonzales had a score to settle now. In the beginning he had been driven by greed, then a need to protect his identity had strengthened his determination, but now his impetus had become revenge. No one got away with shooting down three of his men. To let such a thing pass would be to invite the same to occur again. In Gonzales's line of work, once a man lost the advantage of fear, he courted death. If he allowed one slight to pass without retaliation, he had to begin watching his back even with his own men. To not strike back, to fail, for any reason, to right a wrong, was considered a sign of weakness.

Deke Sheridan had to die. No matter how long he had to wait, Gonzales knew the time would come when the sneaky bastard wouldn't have the Cheyenne to ride shotgun for him. When that day finally arrived, the gringo was a dead man, and the woman as well if Gonzales couldn't take her alive.

Chapter 22.

*Tomorrow. That husky promise of Deke's turned out to be one that was not fulfilled, for the following day turned out to be long and trying, just as he had predicted. Shortly after breakfast, Medicine Woman, Deke's appointed emissary, arrived at Black Stone's lodge with a tattered piece of "talking paper" that offered sixty head of prime cattle as a gift to Black Stone in exchange for his sister's hand. After the formalities were properly addressed, Laura was approached to see if she looked upon the marriage with favor. As she had been instructed to do the night before, Laura meekly turned the matter back over to Black Stone, the suggestion being that she did indeed wish to marry the warrior but would bow to her brother's decision. Black Stone made a great show of deliberation, his black eyes warm with laughter the entire time, and finally accepted the gift, whereupon he stepped outside to announce his adopted sister's marriage publicly.

After that, the pace of the day became crazy. Hordes of Indian men gathered before Black Stone's lodge bearing gifts, all of which Laura was expected to admire, even if she didn't know what they were. Cooking utensils, weaponry, foodstuffs, a leather dress and moccasins, blankets, soap, beads. Two fine-looking horses were even tethered in front of the lodge. During all of this, Deke never appeared, and Laura had to muddle her way through alone, trying to understand and make herself understood. The experience was trying, to say the least. All she wanted was to grab her baby and find Deke.

Such was not to be the case. When the gift giving ended, a frightening warrior spread a blanket at Laura's feet and gestured for her to sit upon it. When she did so, three other warriors ran up, and each of the four grabbed a corner of the wool, lifting Laura none too smoothly between them. The next thing she knew, she was being carried toward Medicine Woman's lodge with a procession of gift-bearing warriors trailing along behind. When Deke was summoned forth from the lodge, the four warriors began swinging Laura to and fro on the blanket, much to her horror. When she at last went airborne, Deke was there to catch her, but Laura wasn't certain of a safe landing until she was solidly embraced by strong arms.

So it was that she began her marriage with her heart in her throat. She no sooner began to recover from that harrowing experience than Medicine Woman entered the lodge and insisted upon examining Laura to determine whether or not she was well enough to have her child returned to her. The old Indian squaw was not one to suffer shyness, and despite Laura's protests, began peeling away her clothing while Deke looked on. He finally had the good grace to turn his back, which earned him a harsh scolding from his mother. When he refused to cease his foolish behavior, Medicine Woman threw up her arms as if to implore the gods, then tottered over and thumped him sharply on the back of his head with the heel of her hand.

Laura was so surprised, she gave a startled giggle, which earned her a flash of ice blue eyes that sent her diving for cover under the furs. After finishing the examination, Medicine Woman pronounced Laura well enough to care for and nurse Jonathan. Laura spent the remainder of the day getting reaccustomed to the rigors of motherhood and settling into married life, the latter of which included sorting through the multitude of wedding gifts and finding places within the lodge to stack them.

By evening, she was so tired, she could scarcely think, and her weariness was manifested by pallor, which alarmed Deke. He tucked her into bed early, vowing that he would see to it she rested frequently on the morrow.

For Deke, that first night was a torture, in more ways than one. After their kiss the night before, lying beside Laura was a temptation he could scarcely resist, and his body complained at the abstinence in a manner only another man might appreciate. Then, to make matters worse, Jonathan grew hungry shortly after midnight, and Deke had to nudge his exhausted wife awake to feed him. Because the fire had burned low and the lodge was chilly, Deke insisted Laura stay under the furs while he brought the infant to her. Then he lay on his back beside the two, feeling like an outsider, and stared up at the smoke hole where a circle of feeble moonlight glowed.

He heard every suckling sound, every soft murmur, every rustle of cloth. His nose caught the scents peculiar to both mother and infanta sweet, warm smell that filled him with longing, not for the sensual, but for the closeness and love they shared. He wanted to lie on his side with an arm curled over Laura's waist, the baby snug between them, as he would have if the child were his. He wanted to see the slight smile he knew was probably curving her mouth, and the glow in her eyes, and the tender way she cupped her hand over the baby's silken head. In short, he longed for what he couldn't have, and had to settle for listening.

He was almost grateful when Jonathan suddenly started to whimper. He heard Laura making comforting little sounds, but the baby's cries gained force. A moment later, Jonathan worked a tiny foot free of his wrappings and gave Deke's elbow a healthy kick.

"Something's wrong," Laura cried. "He did this before."

Deke turned onto his side and, after watching the baby churn furiously with his legs for a moment, asked Laura, "You think maybe he needs to be burped?"

In the moonlight, her eyes were shimmering spheres, and there was no mistaking the distress that tightened her small face. Deke pushed up.

"Honey, don't get scared. He can sense it, and it'll just make him cry harder."

He lifted the baby from Laura's arms, laid him over his shoulder, and gave him a couple of light pats. Jonathan let loose with a rolling rumble, then instantly stopped crying and began nuzzling Deke's neck.

"I ain't equipped with a chuck wagon, little fellow," Deke said with a chuckle as he handed the baby back to his mother.

When Deke lay back down, he turned onto his side facing the pair. When Laura threw him a pleading glance, he assured her it was too dark for him to seethe biggest lie he had ever toldand continued to watch. The moment Jonathan began to nurse again, Deke saw what the problem was. The baby would suckle, then nuzzle and squirm. He was clearly not getting a steady flow of nourishment and, in his distress, was sucking air.

Not wishing to embarrass Laura, Deke grasped her hand and placed her fingertips along the side of her breast, showing her how, with a gentle downward stroke, she could start the flow. Jonathan gave a satisfied little umph through his nose and settled down, one tiny hand curled over his mother's softness.

Deke had seen some beautiful things in his lifetime, newborn fawns, the streaks across the sky at dawn, eagles in flight. But nothing compared to seeing Laura with her baby. With his baby, he decided determinedly. To hell with holding himself apart. Jonathan was his son now, not Tristan Cheney's. And times like this were what created a feeling of family.

Smiling, he trailed his gaze to Laura's lovely face. His guts immediately knotted when he saw streams of silver running down her cheeks. "Laura? What's wrong?"

Clearly humiliated to be caught weeping, she made a choked sound and shook her head, then tried to wipe her cheek on the fur.

"Somethin' must be wrong. Why are you cryin'?"

She curled a trembling hand over Jonathan's head. "I'm just afraid he's going to get sick again," she squeaked. "It must be me. He never acted like this when he was with Star."

"He's not sick, honey. He just sucked a little air, that's all."

"Why?" she asked shrilly. "He never got air with Star. There must be something wrong with me."

Deke puffed a breath into his cheeks, not at all sure he was the right man for this particular job. Laura was about the most bashful female he had ever known. He thought about having his mother or Star talk to her, but with the language barrier to confuse matters, he was afraid they might do more harm than good.

"There's nothin' wrong with you," he assured her. "You're just nervous and unsure of yourself. Sometimes when a mama gets all nerved up, her milk stops. Touchin' where I just showed you gets it started again. When Jonathan can't get milk, he starts rootin' and sucks a little air. That makes his belly hurt, and he fusses. It won't hurt him none. Pretty soon you'll know when it's happenin'. Until then, just give him a quick burp, get your milk started, and put him back on the"

Deke broke off and repositioned his arm beneath his head. When he slid a glance Laura's way, he saw that she hadn't noticed the near vulgarity and was touching her breast where he had showed her, her expression intent. What she lacked in knowledge, she made up for with pure-dee-ole worry.

"Laura, he'll start squirmin' and rootin' if he ain't gettin' nothin'. You'll notice straight off."

She lifted luminous eyes to his. "Are you sure? How can you know? You've never had a baby."

Deke chuckled. "Thank God for that." He smoothed a flyaway curl at her temple, knowing that by the gesture she might realize how much he could truly see, yet unable to resist touching her. "I just know, that's all. Things is real different here when it comes to babies and all. We don't think of ... well, mamas here don't feel shy. If their little ones get hungry, they feed 'em. I reckon I learned a lot as a boy just by watchin'." At her shocked look, he grinned. "You don't hide to have your supper, do you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "That's quite a different thing."

"To you, maybe, but it ain't to a baby." He gestured at the lodge. "There ain't other rooms to go off and hide in here. If company comes and it's rainin' or cold outside, what're you gonna do, make Jonathan go hungry till everybody leaves? Hell, no. You feed him, and whoever's around don't pay it any mind."

Her eyes widened with apprehension, but at least she no longer looked tearful.

Deke chuckled. "You can throw a blanket over your shoulder or somethin'," he tempered. "Just don't get so worried about bashfulness that you smother my son. I might get a hair testy."

"You actually wouldn't be upset if I" She broke off and sputtered. "In front of some other man?"

Deke ran a finger down the bridge of her small nose. "If some other man starts lookin' at you like he shouldn't oughta, I'll kill him."

"I thought physical retribution was forbidden here."

"Retri-what?"

"Punishment. Men turning against one another. You said it was forbidden."

Deke's mouth quirked. Laura was quick; he had to give her that. "I'm peculiar about my womenfolk, and I ain't real slick at followin' rules. That's kinda understood around here. But that ain't why things is like they are. It's just the Cheyenne way. A man ignores the women in another man's lodge, pretends like they ain't there. He has truck with his wife, but otherwise, unless he's got important business with another female, he don't pay her no mind. Not even his own sister. He don't talk to her, don't look at her. And if he sees she's gonna feed her baby, he don't even so much as glance her way."

Laura remembered how Black Stone had ignored her existence the afternoon he came into his lodge. "Then how do you know so much about feeding babies, Mr. Sheridan?"

"I used to have me some real excellent side vision."

She gave a startled laugh. "You rascal."

"Boys will be boys. Most got a real keen interest in everything they ain't s'posed to. Some of 'em are so bad for sneakin' looks you get worried their eyes'll stick at the outside corners."

She giggled again. When her mirth subsided, she sighed and touched Jonathan's small hand, smiling when he curled his fingers over hers. "He's very strong," she whispered. "It's amazing how good a grip he has. He can almost lift himself."

"Aw, go on."

"No, really."

He nudged her hand aside to see for himself. When the baby curled his tiny fingers over Deke's, he got a tight feeling in his chest. "He's one fine boy, Laura," he whispered.

And this time Deke sincerely meant that. Looks weren't everything. Deke would see to it that Jonathan grew into such a fine young man that nobody would notice he had a bad case of the homelies.

"I think he's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen," Laura whispered on a sleepy sigh.

Deke saw her eyelashes flutter closed, and smiled to himself. A few minutes later, he started to fall asleep as well, his finger captured in Jonathan's small fist, his knuckles resting lightly against Laura's soft skin, his mind filled with determination.

He wasn't alone anymore. He would never be alone again. He had a familya beautiful wife and a fine son. Deke's last thought was that he would be the best damned husband and father who had ever walked, or die trying.

During her second day as Deke's wife, Laura learned what an exacting husband he might prove to be. He hovered at her elbow over their morning fire to instruct her on the "proper" way to make cornmeal mush so the mixture wouldn't lump. While he washed the dishes after their meal, he insisted she lie down for a short rest even though she swore she wasn't weary. When the dishes were finished, he slipped his arms through the cradleboard straps, gathered soap, linen, her hairbrush, and the Indian clothing given to her as a wedding gift, then escorted her to a deep pool in the creek for a bath.

As wonderful as a bath sounded, Laura was extremely nervous about disrobing with only a stand of brush between her and Deke to shield her modesty. As a consequence, she gathered up her things from the rock where he had placed them and wandered a bit farther upstream to another still pool. The water was shallower and there was no flat rock handy, but she felt easier about undressing there.

The water proved to be a pleasant surprise, still and shallow enough to be warmed slightly by the sun, the bottom silty with few rocks. Carrying the crudely shaped slab of soap, Laura waded in to midthigh and sat down with a luxurious sigh. The water on her skin felt so good, she couldn't resist lying back and allowing it to buoy her. The loosened tresses of her hair lifted to the surface to float around her. Laura could scarcely wait to scrub her scalp, but first she wanted to enjoy the pleasurable sensation of soaking for a minute.

Ahhhh.

Afraid that Deke might grow impatient and seek her out, Laura soon got down to business, starting at the top of her head and working her way down, abrading her skin with fingertips and nails until it tingled. As she began washing her upper body, she felt a stinging on her fanny, then one on her thigh. She swiped with a hand, then went back to scrubbing.

Wash. Rinse. Wash. Rinse. Soap in her eyes, she bent forward and waggled her face in the water. As she straightened, she felt stings on her breast and belly. She brushed with a hand and felt something soft andoh, Godslimy stuck to her. She sputtered and tried to see, but soap was still in her eyes. She started to rub her lashes and felt something on her cheek. She blinked and rolled her burning eyes downward. Something brown. Something awful. She squealed and tried to get it off, but it was attached to her skin.

Lunging toward shore, Laura looked down and saw that she had brown things all over her. Leeches. Her mind froze on the word, and she began plucking at them and screaming. Oh, Godoh, God. Leeches everywhere.

Laura heard a great splash and saw a blur of buckskin and bronze cutting through the water to reach her. Strong arms snatched her from the pool.

"Son of aaaa bitch!"

Deke plopped her fanny on the sandy creek bank and knelt beside her. Laura was too frantic to care that she was naked. "Off me! Get them off me! Oh, God, oh God!" She grabbed and plucked, throwing the disgusting things away, not caring that it hurt to pull them off. "Help me!"

Large hands grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. "Laura, stop it!" he snarled.

She gulped down a scream and blinked to bring his dark face into focus. A shudder ran the length of her. She gulped again.