Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance) Read online

  She lifted his head and looked into his eyes; they glittered in the moonlight like mica, with crystalline sparks warming and shattering the hard blackness of their depths. His lips parted as he fought for the breath that came out as a hoarse rasp, and she felt his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

  Then in a sudden move whose boldness she could never have predicted she wrapped her legs around him and rolled over until he was on his back and she straddled his body on her knees. His hands reached up, cupping the undersides of her breasts, feeling the weight of them against his palms. He lifted himself up and closed his lips over first one and then the other, as if drinking at some life-giving fountain.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he gasped in a voice made rough by anger and desperation, by fear and longing, by a need so great that he knew it had to be fulfilled, even if he lost his soul.

  As Abby felt the evidence of his arousal against her, she laughed deep in her throat, reveling in the power she had discovered. She rotated her hips slowly, watched his body arch, hearing him groan.

  His hand came up and pulled her down so that her upper body lay against his, and she could feel him pulsating hard and strong against her belly. He grinned wickedly. “You don’t reign supreme yet, my love.” He kissed her firmly, his tongue wild against hers. “Your power is anything but absolute.”

  “That’s what you think,” she taunted against his mouth. Again she shifted position without warning, her mouth caressing his upper body, teasing the taut buds of his nipples, massaging the firm flesh of his chest with her lips and tongue, blazing a trail of her own down the length of his belly and across his hips.

  She moved slowly downward, and before he could stop her, she turned, caught him and loved him until he cried out in agony and pleasure and release. Slowly, then, she slid up his body, tucking her head into the angle between his shoulder and his neck and lying there, watching him, a tiny smile of triumph lifting the rncorners of her mouth.

  He lay so still, and his breathing was so shallow, that she thought he might have fallen asleep and was ready to pounce angrily on him. But he turned to her, and she saw the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his face. He draped one leg over her and cradled her head on his arm.

  “My turn,” he whispered against her cheek.

  She woke before dawn, still in his arms, her head resting beside his on his left arm, his right arm thrown across her. He slept peacefully, exposing traces of the young boy he’d once been. But not last night, she thought, and felt herself grow hot with the memory of their lovemaking, and with the knowledge that his hands, his mouth and his body had given her about herself. His skill as a lover had aroused her beyond anything she had ever imagined; the joyful giving and receiving had challenged her to match his efforts. And, she recalled with a violent blush, she had.

  She moved his arm carefully and slipped away. En route to the window she picked up their clothes and draped them over a chair, then padded across the room to watch the darkness fade. But that was last night, she thought dismally, and this is today.

  What we shared last night had nothing at all to do with reality, she admitted sadly to herself. She turned to look at his sleeping form. The reality is that our time together began and ended in one night of passion, and when daylight comes he’ll leave as he always does.

  Suddenly Colton’s Folly had nothing to do with schools or students or crusades to right the world’s injustices. It was simply a woman in love with a man she could never have. She grimaced. Talk about injustice!

  She turned back to the window, and as the sky grew light she stretched her arms above her head, then, bending from the waist, twisted slowly and gracefully to the right, then the left. Finally she touched her toes and straightened once more. She smiled at the soreness in her thighs and back, but at least her knee felt good. She felt Cat’s eyes on her and turned, waiting unselfconsciously for him to speak.

  “I’d like to begin every day like this.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

  His eyes glittered with sudden anger. “What the hell does that mean?”

  She was deliberately provoking him, pushing him away. “I’d say this is just about the right time for a fast exit, wouldn’t you?” Then she quoted, “If past experience is any indication.”

  “Have you any idea what last night meant to me?”

  “How could I?”

  He unwound himself from the covers and moved toward her, as unashamedly naked as she was. He took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly. “I saw you in my fantasies before I even knew you, and now I dream of no one else.” His eyes flashed fire, and angry lines appeared beside his mouth. “I haven’t been with a woman since I first met you. And I violated every vow I’ve ever made to be with you last night.”

  “And now?”

  He released her and ran his fingers through his hair, muttering, “How the hell should I know?”

  He moved past her and stood at the window, one arm against the top of the frame, the other in a fist at his hip. Abby watched the muscles in his back tensing and relaxing and knew he was fighting an internal battle. He kept his back to her as he spoke again.

  “I can’t change who and what I am for you, Abs... much as I might want to.” She touched him, running her hand lightly down his spine, and he turned to face her. “If I ever do, I’ll be lost for all time.”

  “I don’t understand what that means, Cat, but I do know that anything you say or do will come from you willingly or not at all.”

  His expression was difficult to fathom, a mixture of gratitude and relief and something Abby was afraid to label. Instead she merely kissed him quickly on the cheek and headed for the bathroom.

  “I’ve got to get ready for school,” she called. “There’s coffee on the back of the stove. Help yourself and have a good day.”

  He looked at her silently as she went into the bathroom, where she quickly closed the door to keep him from seeing the tears staining her cheeks. When she came out he was gone.

  * * *

  On an unusually warm day for autumn Abby pulled the jeep into the trees at the base of the ridge hiding Cat’s secret place and turned off the ignition. At the suggestion of Dr. Courtney, who had told her to swim without suggesting where, she’d come out to the pond every day after school to supplement her own program of stretching and yoga.

  As she approached the pond she seemed to enter a different world. The hidden stream and its tiny gem of a waterfall kept the area green and the temperature at a comfortable level. The sun’s rays filtered through the abundant foliage over her head, providing light, but little heat, and giving the whole scene a sparkling, jewel-like quality. She lowered herself to the ground, her back against her favorite tree, and closed her eyes.

  Today would be a day of pure rest. She’d promised herself that yesterday after spending the day helping the children select and pack the items they would ship to Sherri in New York. It had been fun. The kids had worked hard and were proud of the results. Slow had acted as an advisor, and he had provided them with intelligent guidance. He had also scoured the village, looking for contributions from the older people, so there was now a fine mix of the modern and the traditional. Abby had a strong feeling that the collection would find an appreciative audience in New York.

  But when the day ended she’d been tired and her knee had ached. She’d done too much and had resolved to use her Sunday to recoup. Now she sighed with pleasure, feeling the peace and solitude invading her tired mind and body, the green-scented air washing over her in gentle, cooling currents, the sun-dappled water soothing her jangled nerve endings with the sound of its lazy lapping against the shore. Finally relaxed, she pulled off her shorts and top and plunged into the clear, cold water, swimming as she had in high school, setting a moderate but steady pace, building stamina first, then speed.

  As she swam back and forth across the pond she was unaware of Cat’s presence. He watched her cutting through the water with clean, smooth str
okes. She was beautiful to see. She dove beneath the surface, and he held his breath until he saw her come up once more near the waterfall that hid the cave where he’d first come to grips with his feelings about her.

  She lifted herself out of the water and slipped behind the tumbling cascade that glistened in the sunlight like shimmering crystal beads that bathed her naked body in an unearthly glow. There she stood for a moment, then raised her arms like an ancient priestess presenting herself as an offering to the gods.

  Finally she moved out from behind the waterfall and spotted him. She stopped in surprise for a moment, then circled the pond to where he waited. He watched with an unbearable ache as she walked toward him, knowing he was seeing her this way for the last time. Tall, broad shouldered and slim hipped, with firm, taut breasts and a small waist, she moved easily on her long legs, making her way from one rock to another and across a stretch of open shoreline.

  Dear God, he thought. How can I give her up? He turned away, bracing his outstretched arms against the trunk of an ancient oak. Never to lie with her beside me, never again to know the sweetness of her body...

  He felt her arms slip around his waist, felt her breasts burn against his bare back as she whispered, “I’m glad you came. I hope it’s a good sign.”

  He turned, and her lips closed on his. Unable to resist, he wound his arms around her, pressing her body along the length of his. Her skin was smooth beneath his hands, and warmly vibrant. He wanted the moment to last forever, but he knew it couldn’t. With a small groan he raised his mouth from hers and pulled apart the hands that were clasped tightly around his neck.

  “Put your clothes on. We have to talk.”

  She smiled impishly. “Why can’t we talk this way?”

  “Because it’s too damned distracting, and you know it and I’ve got something important to say.”

  Her smile faded, and the warmth left her eyes. He turned his back on her until she spoke. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

  She was wearing the briefest shorts and the thinnest T- shirt he’d ever seen. He looked at her with a grimace. “That’s not much better.”

  “What is it you have to say?”

  He recognized the cool distance in her voice and hated the defenses he’d forced her to erect. He walked down to the water’s edge and, with his back to her, crouched on his haunches, staring at the still surface of the pond. He tried to put his thoughts in order, to do the thing he had to, and to do it right. He felt her hand on his shoulder as she sat down on a rock near him.

  “Just say it straight out.”

  “Two years ago, just before my uncle died, I promised him I’d dedicate my life to Twin Buttes and its people. I didn’t make that promise lightly, Abby. I knew that I would never live like other men, that I would never have the material things other men had, that I might not have a woman of my own, or kids to carry on my name and give me comfort in my old age.

  “But my uncle always told me that I had a special mission, that because I was part of two worlds, I could give our people what no one else could. Because I could see into the white man’s soul and know what he was thinking, I could protect our people from him. He said that it was my duty to protect our people from him, above everything else. That I must guard the land, uphold our traditions and protect our children. I took a sacred vow, and I intend to carry it out the best way I know how.” He looked at her briefly, saw no expression on her face, and looked away again.

  “I won’t deny that I’ve been tempted to give all that up and forget my responsibilities in your arms. You’re a compelling woman, and you could easily satisfy any fantasy I’ve ever had. But I’ve done a lot of thinking since we were together, and I’ve come to the decision, finally, that there’s no chance for us. In my mind there’s too much against it, things I can’t forget or rationalize away, that I just can’t live with.”

  “Look at me, Cat.”

  He turned to face her again, relieved that she’d found her voice.

  “Do you love me?”

  “No.”

  “Not at all? Don’t you care, even a little?”

  “I want you, I told you that, more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. And given a choice I’d take you to bed anytime--or any place for that matter--but I’ll never marry you.”

  “Those ‘things’ you mentioned, do they have anything to do with my being white?”

  He turned away from her, strangely reluctant to say the words that would destroy her love for him. She spun him around in a move of surprising strength and growled angrily, “Answer me, damn it! Is it because I’m white?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes narrowed in cold fury, and her hands balled into fists. “If you can see into the white man’s soul, why can’t you see into mine? Why can’t you find the love and the caring that’s there for your people? Why can’t you trust that I would never hurt them, or betray them? Why can’t you for once look beyond the color of my skin and just see me?”

  She looked at him, but nothing she’d said had stirred him. Nothing had gotten through, not the months of work, not whatever successes had been achieved, not the times they’d been together, when he’d taken her love but apparently seen it only as a sexual adventure, and, certainly, nothing she had said.

  She rose and waded into the water again and out to where she could no longer stand. Then she began to swim, her mind a blank. She felt nothing, not the water as it flowed about her feverish body, or the movement of her arms and legs as she cut through the liquid cold. She ached all over with an inexpressible weariness, but she barely noticed even that.

  Why did he bring me close only to push me away? She wondered. Why did I let myself be open to him? Why didn’t I just stay away? She groaned and felt the tears start, hot tears of anger and disappointment that flowed down her cheeks and mingled with the cold water of the pond.

  She took a long breath, then another, and dove deep, separating herself from all that waited at the surface and on shore. A picture flashed through her mind of herself, years from now, living alone and unable to give her love to the one man who mattered to her in all the world. She envisioned herself watching him pass along the edge of that world, distant, unfeeling, never touching, a stranger for all time. She wanted to die. It occurred to her that it would be so simple just to give up, to give in to the water, stop stroking and sink to the bottom.

  Instead she drove herself to the surface with one enormous surge of power. The numbness was gone, replaced by a great, consuming, rending pain that filled her chest and burned its way down the length of her belly. She felt as if she were breaking apart from the inside. Relentlessly she forced her arms to pump and her legs to kick as she swam the length of the pond and back again, two, three times, driving the pain from her body and mind by sheer effort of will, silencing the scream that ached to escape. And then, finally, gratefully, she was calm.

  It was over. He didn’t love her, didn’t need her in his life. Then so be it. Her life contained many elements, only one of which was this new love for Cat. She had her work, her friends, old and new, and enough faith in herself to know that she could make it without him. But, oh, the pain of it...

  Cat saw her emerge from the water. Even at a distance he could see that despite the blow she would survive. He saw it in the way she held her head and in the set of her shoulders. He knew she had dug deep and found what she needed to go on with her life, just as she had before.

  Damn her, he thought with an emptiness he hadn’t expected. She’ll probably get along better without me than I will without her.

  Chapter 11

  The following week Martha came to visit. When Abby answered her knock, she handed the young woman a loaf of home-baked bread, some fresh-cut flowers and a crock of honey, newly gathered from a neighbor’s hives.

  “Glad you’re on your feet again,” she said, marching directly into the living room. “Why have you stayed away so long?”

  Abby bustled about the kitchen, storing the bread and hone
y, filling a vase for the flowers, all the while wondering how to answer. Finally, unable to avoid Martha’s question any longer, she returned to the living room and lowered herself into the chair facing her friend.

  “Well?” Martha prodded.

  Abby stared down at her hands. “I fell in love with your son, and that was a mistake. It’s true that we were--are-- attracted to each other, but it was never meant to be any more than that. I knew he couldn’t let himself love me. I should have protected myself. It’s a bit late, but I’m protecting myself now by staying away.”

  “And you’re not going to fight for him?”

  “No.”

  “You got any plans for the day?”

  “Nothing special.”

  “Come with me. I want you to meet someone.”

  They walked together to a house designed like a pueblo dwelling of the Southwest and set off by itself on a large plot of land.

  “This is an unusual house for this area. Why was it built this way?”

  “The woman who lives here is Hopi. She’s been here almost fifty years. She’s the one who does the pottery.”

  They stepped through the open doorway, and Martha called out, “Star Blanket? You here?”

  A woman came toward them from the dimness. “I’m here.”

  “I have a young friend I want to meet you.”

  “Always glad to know someone new.”

  As Martha made the introductions Abby looked at Star Blanket and recognized her as the woman in the painting in the teacher’s house. Her hair was almost white now, and pulled back from her face, emphasizing her wide, high cheekbones and her round, dark eyes, which seemed kind and filled with sad wisdom. Abby knew the woman was old, yet her face was smooth, with only laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Her body, in its dark green velvet blouse and traditional long, full skirt, was solid, and her back and shoulders were straight and proud. Silver-and-turquoise jewelry in her ears caught and reflected the sunlight behind Abby, and bangles clinked on her wrist as she put out a hand in friendship.