Surely Rebecca hadn't understood. Was Night Thunder asking her to kiss him? To show others? Was this, then, an added insult on top what she had been made to endure by these Indians?

She hadn't expect to look upon Night Thunder again. When she had been captured by the Indians, she had assumed Night Thunder would go back to his own people with nary a thought for her, believing as she had that the man would feel his obligation to her at end.

But she had been wrong.

Had it been only a few months previous that Night Thunder had pledged his word of honor to protect her?

"I will watch over Rebecca," he had told his friend and companion, White Eagle, "so that your woman need not worry about her. I give you my word that so long as I breathe, Rebecca will remain safe."

That White Eagle's woman had been the niece of a new breed of man that Indians referred to as the Long Knives had made no difference to Night Thunder. His friend had needed help. Night Thunder had given it, no questions asked.

Rebecca remembered at the time being struck by the incongruity of it.

An Indian swearing his life to protect a white woman?

Yet he had.

She was suddenly glad she had spent the time necessary to ensure this man knew her language. Addressing Night Thunder, she said, "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Despite his stately demeanor, Night Thunder looked suddenly sheepish. And Rebecca could understand why. Thus far in their relationship, Night Thunder had shown her nothing but the utmost respect, keeping a careful distance from her. Even during those times when the two of them had been alone, he had rarely spoken to her, Rebecca coming to understand that in his society, their association with on another-- that of an unmarried woman with a man-- would have been strictly taboo. Rebecca could only wonder at what else had been said among these Indians to cause Night Thunder to ask her for her embrace now.

"Why is it that you would be asking me this?" She put the question to him gently.

"I have told these people that you are my wife in order save your life," he replied to her, his voice deep and strong, yet with a hint of chagrin. "They are demanding some...proof of our union. But I can say no more on it now. I can tell you only that you are being asked to choose one of us. Either myself or my cousin who stands here beside me."

She glanced from one man to the other, her gaze coming back to settle upon Night Thunder. She held out her wrists. "If someone would untie me?" The old man stepped forward, the knife in his hand, cutting the rawhide bonds.

Several pairs of eyes watched her as she paced toward Night Thunder. She glanced up at him warily and raised her eyes to his. "Could you help me with this... kiss, now?"

She glimpsed no emotion on the man's countenance before he said, "This is a thing you must do on your own. I can only tell you what you have to do. You must choose either myself or my cousin."

"With all these people here watching?"

"It cannot be helped."

"And will this act truly make us man and wife within the eyes of your people?"

An embarrassed, almost bashful look stole over Night Thunder's face, though his voice was strong as he said, "Only if we consummate the union as a man and a woman who are truly married are bound to do."

She was certain her face filled with color. She stammered, "And... and must we do this in front of...? Her hand swept out in front of her.

"No, just one kiss should be all that is required."

She sighed. "It is little enough that you ask in exchange for my life."

With this said, she came right up to Night Thunder and put her hand on his shoulder, reaching up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

As soon as he received the kiss, Night Thunder stepped immediately back from her, and in his own language, said something to the others.

Chuckles were heard from around the circle surrounding them, and after some moments, Night Thunder said to her, "They say a kiss on the cheek is little enough proof."

She paused. "Then let them deny this," and she threw herself into Night Thunder's arms, placing her lips against his.

When her lips met Night Thunder's, something unexpectedly stirred to life within her. What was it? A warmth. Aye, surely, and yet more.

She felt her blood surge with newfound exhilaration. It made her want to curl in closer toward him, though she curbed the inclination to do so.

The faint scent of him engulfed her and she found it pleasing. He smelled of grass and smoke and prairie, yet more... There was another, almost indefinable aroma about him, too, something very male, and very arousing.

And there was an almost soft texture to his skin, his lips. She wondered, how would the rest of his skin feel beneath her fingers? She brought her hand up to trail her fingers down his arm, only half aware of what she did.

He moaned in response and his reaction, far from causing her to reevaluate her actions, made her lean in closer.

His lips were full upon hers, making her feel warm, protected. Making her aware of her femininity. She became conscious of her breasts pushing forward against her dress, suddenly sensitized, and that area of her body most private to her began to ache, as though that part of her had awakened to life, too. The whole effect caused her to utter a soft sound, deep in her throat.

Rebecca heard another groan from Night Thunder and then all at once his arms came around her, pulling her in so closely to him that she could feel the evidence of his masculinity against her belly.

She could barely think.

For the past two months, she had grown accustomed to the company of this man as he had watched over her, guarding her. She had observed him within this time, had become used to the look of him, the sound of his voice, his quiet humor. She had even come to admit a fair amount of respect for him.

But this? What was happening here between them was more than mere respect. This was...well it was..sexual.

Ah, yes. Pure and simple. This kiss was communicating more than words could have, that she might...fancy him...and he her.

Had he felt this pull all these months? Had she? Surely not. Or were they both only realizing this now?

She barely heard the footfalls of the other men in the camp, as they moved away, uttering words she didn't understand. She was only aware of this one man whose arms held her securely, whose touch roamed even now up and down her spine, causing her to shiver. 

Someone spoke from beside them, jarring Night Thunder's sensual exploration.

"Soka'piiwa," someone said. What did that mean?

His arms fell from around her, and she lowered her head, looking down at the ground. Without his arms around her, Rebecca felt suddenly embarrassed. She had meant to give him only a chaste little kiss. It should have been a simple affair. Yet the kiss they had just shared was anything but modest.

What did one say to a man who had affected her in such an unusual way? How did one act?

"Come," said Night Thunder, taking hold of her arm and causing a tingling up and down that arm where he touched it. "The others are convinced of our union and are erecting a niitoyis, a camp lodge, for us. It seems we are to be left alone for the night."

"A-alone?" A part of her gladdened at the idea of having no one else around her but this man; another wiser, more subdued part of her despaired.

"Aa, yes," he said, "alone. But do not worry. I will not violate you, if it is that which concerns you. In the morning, I will take you back to the fort, as I should, and you will be no worse for you adventure here tonight."

"Aye," she acknowledged, nodding, "that is good." Although she wondered if, having experienced a kiss such as the one they had shared, things would ever be quite the same between them again.

She let Night Thunder lead her toward the outer circle of the camp, where, as he had promised, a lodge had been hastily constructed. She hesitated and Night Thunder stopped, turned around, and gazed at her. "If you take me back in the morning, won't the others in your camp begin to think that perhaps you lied to them? What will happen then?"

He shrugged as though the thought of such things were beneath him. Yet in his haunted eyes she glimpsed a hint that perhaps his true feelings were quite different.

"The other will find out in due time," he said, "that all I have spoken of this night is not true. Then I must face what I must. But that time is distant from now. Now I must get you to safety. When that is done, I will seek to confront the wrath of my ancestors over what I have said and done this night."

"I see," she said, even though she didn't, not at all. Ancestors? Did he mean dead people passing judgment, seeking revenge on the living? Had she heard him correctly? What strange manner of beliefs were these?

With any other man, she might have thought he'd gone daft to say such things. But not with Night Thunder. There was nothing about this man to suggest even a hint of weakness: in body, in spirit, or in mind. And so, she figured, if he believed such things, he must have good reason.

They had reached the teepee and Night Thunder pulled back the rawhide flap, entering the structure before her. And with little urging, she followed his example.

Since the teepee had been put together in a hurry, twigs and leaves still cluttered the floor and the teepee covering didn't quite fit the lodge poles. Yet someone had set a fire to burning in the center, scattering a few robes across the ground, too.

Had this been done by the same men who had only moments ago been ready to destroy her? She was struck by the incongruity of it.

She glanced up at Night Thunder, who motioned her toward him.

"The fire throws shadows onto the teepee, illuminating our figures upon it," he told her. "Come, let me hold you, while the others might still be watching. Then we will put out this fire, or at least reduce it to embers, so that we can sleep in separate sleeping robes without the entire camp knowing what we do."

Rebecca rubbed her hands over her arms. She took a few steps toward him.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded.

He drew her into his arms. "Let me warm you," he said, and proceeded to run his hands up and down her arms, down over her spine.

It felt good. He felt good, and she trembled, but whether from cold, reaction to him, or the whole ordeal this evening, she couldn't be certain.

"You have been through much this night," he said, seemingly reading her thoughts. "Come," he said, and sat down with her, still holding her in his arms.

It felt so natural, so right,  to be held just like this by him. He ran his hands over her back, her arms, even her legs, through the layers of her skirt. But rather than his actions being sexual, his touch felt soothing and she relaxed. She lay her head against his chest and closed her eyes, not fully realizing until this moment how tired she was.

She opened her mouth to whisper a word of thanks for all he had done for her, for all he was doing for her, but the words never passed her lips. And the last thing she remembered was the strange melody of a song he sang as she drifted off to sleep.

Copyright © 1999 by Karen Kay Elstner