excited by her response to his suckling. He wanted to be inside her, but knew he'd have to wait. She wasn't ready for that commitment; was he? His dream said he was. It also said Willow wanted him. Again he had dreamed of being Indian. Did it have meaning?
"Does your father have two scars on his chest where he attached a feather and some blue beads?" he asked
She looked at him with an expression of disbelief. "How did you know that? You've never seen . . . how could you know?"
"It's true, isn't it?" He was more puzzled than he could express.
She nodded, slowly. "How?"
"I don't know how to explain it. Would you believe I saw it in my dream just now?" He waited for her skepticism.
"You had another dream? Tell me about it,"
"Not much to tell. There were dancers and drums. I asked your father to let me marry you for twenty horses and a buffalo stone. Dumb, huh?" As he pressed his head into her breasts, she gave no resistance. His face belonged nuzzled against her warm softness.
"Dreams hold great meaning to my People. Do you understand what a buffalo stone is?"
"I didn't until my dream. Your father explained it. He seemed thrilled to have it." Brett wondered how he could be discussing a dream as though it had truly happened.
"What was my father's answer?"
"Answer to what?" he asked, pretending not to understand.
"Did he say yes or no to accept your offer for me?"
He kissed her, tasting her sweetness. "You don't honestly believe his answer in my dream has anything to do with us now, do you?"
"Don't dismiss a dream as though it's nothing. It holds great meaning and power. What was father's answer?"
"I think it'd be wrong to tell you," he said, noticing a slight pout form. "Does it mean that much to you? What if he turned down my offer?" Brett felt her withdraw slightly, and it surprised him.
"Did he turn you down?"
"He took the stone and my offer. We shared an incredible celebration and just when I was about to make you my wife, you woke me."
A stain crept across her cheeks. She acted like a virgin, embarrassed by his comments and compliments.
"Where did you get that cut?" She wiped at the dried blood on his jaw.
He rubbed at the spot, knowing full well he got it in his dream, but he couldn't tell her that. "You must have sharpened that hook on your bra," he teased.
"You're impossible. We should get some sleep," she whispered, pulling his head back to nestle against her breasts.
Brett kissed each soft breast, and then adjusted his weight alongside her, drawing her into his warmth. He fit her head into his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her. He gently held a breast in his palm and it felt right.
* * *
Willow woke. Brett's warmth wrapped around her like a secure blanket. The fire had gone out, and her cold nose told her the temperatures had dipped low. She thought about the boys. Worry and fear filtered into her motherly instincts.
"Brett," she said, wiggling against him. She quickly realized her mistake, feeling his hardness against her. It amazed her how quickly he became aroused. She couldn't help wondering what kind of lover he'd be. His tenderness last night had left her wanting more. She'd never wanted any part of Gordon. His actions hurt and left her feeling degraded. Somehow it didn't seem possible to feel that way with Brett.
"Brett," she repeated, turning in his arms. She glanced up to find drowsy eyes looking back at her. "It's morning. We need to . . ." she paused, feeling the warmth of his hand on her breast. "We need to get up and go after the boys. It got terribly cold last night. I'm worried."
"I agree." He sat and grabbed their shirts. "Here, put this on," he said, pulling his on in a quick motion.
"I'll get some food and you can get that fire going.” She tugged on first one boot, then the other. “It's freezing in here."
"We'd be smarter not making a fire. It'll be colder outside if we don't acclimate in here first."
She knew he was right. Hurrying to the supplies, she
"Does your father have two scars on his chest where he attached a feather and some blue beads?" he asked
She looked at him with an expression of disbelief. "How did you know that? You've never seen . . . how could you know?"
"It's true, isn't it?" He was more puzzled than he could express.
She nodded, slowly. "How?"
"I don't know how to explain it. Would you believe I saw it in my dream just now?" He waited for her skepticism.
"You had another dream? Tell me about it,"
"Not much to tell. There were dancers and drums. I asked your father to let me marry you for twenty horses and a buffalo stone. Dumb, huh?" As he pressed his head into her breasts, she gave no resistance. His face belonged nuzzled against her warm softness.
"Dreams hold great meaning to my People. Do you understand what a buffalo stone is?"
"I didn't until my dream. Your father explained it. He seemed thrilled to have it." Brett wondered how he could be discussing a dream as though it had truly happened.
"What was my father's answer?"
"Answer to what?" he asked, pretending not to understand.
"Did he say yes or no to accept your offer for me?"
He kissed her, tasting her sweetness. "You don't honestly believe his answer in my dream has anything to do with us now, do you?"
"Don't dismiss a dream as though it's nothing. It holds great meaning and power. What was father's answer?"
"I think it'd be wrong to tell you," he said, noticing a slight pout form. "Does it mean that much to you? What if he turned down my offer?" Brett felt her withdraw slightly, and it surprised him.
"Did he turn you down?"
"He took the stone and my offer. We shared an incredible celebration and just when I was about to make you my wife, you woke me."
A stain crept across her cheeks. She acted like a virgin, embarrassed by his comments and compliments.
"Where did you get that cut?" She wiped at the dried blood on his jaw.
He rubbed at the spot, knowing full well he got it in his dream, but he couldn't tell her that. "You must have sharpened that hook on your bra," he teased.
"You're impossible. We should get some sleep," she whispered, pulling his head back to nestle against her breasts.
Brett kissed each soft breast, and then adjusted his weight alongside her, drawing her into his warmth. He fit her head into his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her. He gently held a breast in his palm and it felt right.
* * *
Willow woke. Brett's warmth wrapped around her like a secure blanket. The fire had gone out, and her cold nose told her the temperatures had dipped low. She thought about the boys. Worry and fear filtered into her motherly instincts.
"Brett," she said, wiggling against him. She quickly realized her mistake, feeling his hardness against her. It amazed her how quickly he became aroused. She couldn't help wondering what kind of lover he'd be. His tenderness last night had left her wanting more. She'd never wanted any part of Gordon. His actions hurt and left her feeling degraded. Somehow it didn't seem possible to feel that way with Brett.
"Brett," she repeated, turning in his arms. She glanced up to find drowsy eyes looking back at her. "It's morning. We need to . . ." she paused, feeling the warmth of his hand on her breast. "We need to get up and go after the boys. It got terribly cold last night. I'm worried."
"I agree." He sat and grabbed their shirts. "Here, put this on," he said, pulling his on in a quick motion.
"I'll get some food and you can get that fire going.” She tugged on first one boot, then the other. “It's freezing in here."
"We'd be smarter not making a fire. It'll be colder outside if we don't acclimate in here first."
She knew he was right. Hurrying to the supplies, she
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