wife, but tonight I find little to complain about, unless it is the knowledge that I won’t be get ting a woman known for her virtue. Cheyenne men admire purity in a woman, and Cheyenne women guard their virtue zealously. It is a gift they give their husbands upon their marriage.
Tonight I will try not to think about the other men you have lain with.”
Hannah blinked but said nothing. What good would it do? If this was indeed going to be her wedding night, Wind Rider would find out soon enough that she was as virtuous as the purest Cheyenne maiden. Certainly more virtuous than some of the Sioux women she’d seen since her captivity, especially if they were all like Spotted Doe.
The dancing continued, growing more fren zied as the night progressed. Wind Rider grew impatient, and some of his friends realized it. They began taunting him with ribald remarks, as friends were inclined to do to bridegrooms, causing some of the women to cover their ears and giggle. Suddenly Wind Rider had had enough. Without warning he rose to his feet, jerking Hannah with him.
“What is it?” Fear skittered through her. The moment she had dreaded all evening had arrived.
“It is time to go.”
“What about the wedding? I thought there was to be a ceremony. Have you changed your mind about marrying me?”
“The moment we walk inside the honeymoon lodge we are wed,” Wind Rider told her. “No special ceremony exists. According to tribal customs, once we declare our intention to join we are considered wed. Come.” He took her hand, leading her away from the campfire and the celebration.
Dragging her feet, Hannah shook her head in vigorous denial. “It-it’s immoral! It’s sinful. It’s not the way it’s done in white society.”
“Forget about white society. You are the wife of an Indian now. In this village Indian law prevails. Believe me, Little Sparrow, we are wed. And when your soft white belly swells with my child there will be no room for doubt.”
“Oh, my God.”
Her knees buckled beneath her. She would have fallen if Wind Rider hadn’t scooped her up into his arms. When she saw the honey moon lodge looming before them in the moonlit darkness she repeated softly, “Oh, my God.”
Chapter Seven
Someone had thoughtfully lit a fire inside the lodge and sprinkled it liberally with sweetgrass and sage. It flickered invitingly against the walls. Furs were laid out to form a soft nest and fresh pine boughs scattered about to produce a pleasant scent. But Hannah was aware of nothing except the implied promise of Wind Rider’s hard body as he carried her inside and set her down on her feet.
Refusing to look at the bed, she stared at the small patch of sky visible through the smokehole, seeing the stars gliding lazily by and wishing she could join them. Wind Rider noted the direction of her gaze and said, “The fragrant smoke from the fire carries the prayers of the People to the spirits above through the smokehole. There is much for you to learn. I will teach you/’
He reached for her, his fingers strong and steady as he began to unlace the front of her tunic.
“Tell me more,” Hannah said breathlessly, wanting to put off the inevitable. The move ment of his fingers against her flesh sent her senses reeling.
Wind Rider prayed for patience, struggling to still the blood clamoring through his veins. “The floor of the lodge represents the earth, the walls the sky; the tepee poles are the trails leading from the earth to the Spirit World. The tepee has a special place in our lives. When the flap is closed a visitor is required to announce himself and await permission to enter. Men usually go to the right when entering and a woman enters behind her husband and goes to the left. Passing between the fire and anyone else in the lodge is bad etiquette.”
Hannah half listened, all too aware of the way Wind Rider’s eyes were caressing her body. Her breath caught in her throat and held as his words
Tonight I will try not to think about the other men you have lain with.”
Hannah blinked but said nothing. What good would it do? If this was indeed going to be her wedding night, Wind Rider would find out soon enough that she was as virtuous as the purest Cheyenne maiden. Certainly more virtuous than some of the Sioux women she’d seen since her captivity, especially if they were all like Spotted Doe.
The dancing continued, growing more fren zied as the night progressed. Wind Rider grew impatient, and some of his friends realized it. They began taunting him with ribald remarks, as friends were inclined to do to bridegrooms, causing some of the women to cover their ears and giggle. Suddenly Wind Rider had had enough. Without warning he rose to his feet, jerking Hannah with him.
“What is it?” Fear skittered through her. The moment she had dreaded all evening had arrived.
“It is time to go.”
“What about the wedding? I thought there was to be a ceremony. Have you changed your mind about marrying me?”
“The moment we walk inside the honeymoon lodge we are wed,” Wind Rider told her. “No special ceremony exists. According to tribal customs, once we declare our intention to join we are considered wed. Come.” He took her hand, leading her away from the campfire and the celebration.
Dragging her feet, Hannah shook her head in vigorous denial. “It-it’s immoral! It’s sinful. It’s not the way it’s done in white society.”
“Forget about white society. You are the wife of an Indian now. In this village Indian law prevails. Believe me, Little Sparrow, we are wed. And when your soft white belly swells with my child there will be no room for doubt.”
“Oh, my God.”
Her knees buckled beneath her. She would have fallen if Wind Rider hadn’t scooped her up into his arms. When she saw the honey moon lodge looming before them in the moonlit darkness she repeated softly, “Oh, my God.”
Chapter Seven
Someone had thoughtfully lit a fire inside the lodge and sprinkled it liberally with sweetgrass and sage. It flickered invitingly against the walls. Furs were laid out to form a soft nest and fresh pine boughs scattered about to produce a pleasant scent. But Hannah was aware of nothing except the implied promise of Wind Rider’s hard body as he carried her inside and set her down on her feet.
Refusing to look at the bed, she stared at the small patch of sky visible through the smokehole, seeing the stars gliding lazily by and wishing she could join them. Wind Rider noted the direction of her gaze and said, “The fragrant smoke from the fire carries the prayers of the People to the spirits above through the smokehole. There is much for you to learn. I will teach you/’
He reached for her, his fingers strong and steady as he began to unlace the front of her tunic.
“Tell me more,” Hannah said breathlessly, wanting to put off the inevitable. The move ment of his fingers against her flesh sent her senses reeling.
Wind Rider prayed for patience, struggling to still the blood clamoring through his veins. “The floor of the lodge represents the earth, the walls the sky; the tepee poles are the trails leading from the earth to the Spirit World. The tepee has a special place in our lives. When the flap is closed a visitor is required to announce himself and await permission to enter. Men usually go to the right when entering and a woman enters behind her husband and goes to the left. Passing between the fire and anyone else in the lodge is bad etiquette.”
Hannah half listened, all too aware of the way Wind Rider’s eyes were caressing her body. Her breath caught in her throat and held as his words
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