Free Comanche Woman by Joan Johnston Page A

find I like being cared for by you.”
    Before he could do what his eyes told her he had in mind, she used a forked stick to draw the cloth from the water.
    “Lie down on your side,” she ordered firmly. “And hold your arm so I can reach your wound.”
    He smiled, then obeyed her.
    Bay held the hot cloth out on the forked stick and levered it over to his arm, allowing it to settle on the wound. The hissing sound Long Quiet made told her how hot the cloth was.
    “It has to be hot to work,” she said.
    “I didn’t complain.”
    “I didn’t want you to think I’d hurt you on purpose.”
    “But you don’t like me.”
    She kept stubbornly silent. The fact was she did like him, but she didn’t understand why. Until she did, it would be better not to admit such a thing.
    Long Quiet suddenly sat up so the cloth fell from his arm. He thrust his hands in her hair where her braid had come loose overnight and held her head steady while his eyes searched her face. Before she could resist, his lips brushed hers once, twice.
    If he’d tried to invade her mouth Bay would have fought him, but his touch was so soft, so tender, that she let him have his way. It was her undoing, because once he’d accustomed her to the feel of him, his tongue made a gentle foray along the edges of her lips, enticing, tempting. When she opened her mouth to object, his tongue slipped inside.
    Her whole body tensed with the unfamiliar feelings that shot through her. His mouth felt good on hers. But it shouldn’t. He was a stranger. She’d been given to him to use as he wished, like a slave woman to a plantation rake.
    So why wasn’t she resisting him?
    Bay opened her eyes and saw his eyes were open, too. He kept his hold on her but edged back so they could look at one another easily. His gaze was frighteningly possessive in contrast to the gentleness of his touch.
    “You aren’t going to . . . you won’t . . .” Her voice failed her.
    “For now, until I leave, you belong to me.”

 
    Chapter 5
     
    N O !” T HE PROTEST SPRANG INVOLUNTARILY FROM B AY ’ S lips as she struggled to free herself from Long Quiet’s arms. He held her gently but firmly.
    “I will have you.”
    Long Quiet’s simple words sent Bay into a frenzy, and though she knew it was futile, she arched her body away in an attempt at escape. He captured her easily and pulled her wildly writhing body back into his embrace.
    “Let me go!” she cried.
    “Do not dare to fight him! You belong to him!”
    Bay froze at the sound of Many Horses’ thundering voice. She hadn’t noticed the sounds of someone entering the tipi, but perhaps Many Horses’ entrance explained the tautness she’d felt in Long Quiet’s body only moments before Many Horses had spoken. Bay could almost see the hackles rise on both men’s necks as a frisson of barely controlled antagonism arced between them.
    Because she knew him well, Bay was aware of the coiled tension in Many Horses’ body. He should properly have ignored her presence, but she caught his quick glance as he looked to see how she’d fared after a night in another man’s bed. Her face colored when she realized he no doubt believed Long Quiet had taken her to his blanket during the night. She was sure Cries at Night must have told him she’d been naked when Little Deer had awakened her.
    Bay saw a flash of regret on the Comanche’s face. Many Horses’ jaw muscles tightened as though he were grinding his teeth. His guttural voice rasped in anger. “I had not thought you would shame me thus, woman. His right to you is as mine. You cannot refuse him.”
    Despite the words he’d spoken, Bay had the feeling Many Horses’ anger was directed not at her but at Long Quiet. As she started to rise, Long Quiet’s arms tightened around her.
    “There is no shame to you,
haints
,” Long Quiet said, “in her refusal of me. It is a tribute to the feeling she has for you.”
    “She must obey me!”
    “No,” Long Quiet countered. “She