Free White Owl by Veronica Blake

on the top of her head. He knew that if he continued to gaze into those hypnotizing blue eyes, or stare at those soft lips, he would lose what little control he had left. This had to be her choice in every way.
    He felt her relax against him even more as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and breathed in the heady scent of her hair. It was not the scent of perfumed soap, but natural and intoxicating.
    “We already know how my family will feel,” Rose began. “So what about your family? How would they feel about you being with a white woman?”
    Her question caught White Owl off guard. She cared about his family? Obviously she was thinking about a lot of things that he hadn’t even thought to consider yet. “I don’t care what they think. I do what I want.” He felt her body stiffen slightly. He quickly added, “But it is different with my people. We have been forced to learn how to live with the whites. Your people just want to kill us.”
    The second the words left his mouth, White Owl knew that he shouldn’t have said them. Herbody became as rigid as a tree trunk, and her shoulders drew back in a defensive manner. “Wild Rose, my words do not apply to us—to you and me. And my father understands my feelings for you.”
    Rose turned around to look at him. “You have talked to your father about me?”
    “He is my friend as well as my father. And he is much wiser than I am when it comes to women.” White Owl chuckled at the shocked expression on her face. Then, when he remembered how her father would feel about the two of them together, he realized that there was nothing humorous about this situation.
    “What did you tell him?” Rose asked as she leaned back against him.
    “That you wouldn’t leave my head alone ever since that very first day that I saw you on the ridge above the racetrack,” White Owl answered with honesty. Her body relaxed even more.
    He had to fight to control the urges that kept trying to escape from his loins. He couldn’t forget how she’d reacted the first time that had happened, and even though they had progressed past that point with their heated kisses, he wasn’t sure she was ready to go any further—yet. He tried to reposition himself in case his body defied him.
    “Tell me about your people,” she said.
    “What do you want to know?” White Owl placed his chin on top of her head again. This felt so comfortable. It was like they had known each other forever.
    “Well, how long have you lived here?”
    He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Forever,” he replied. “Ask something else.”
    “Oh,” she said in a thoughtful tone, and then asked, “Well, do you—I mean—your people have courtship rituals, you know, like we do?”
    Her question once again shocked White Owl. Her thoughts were obviously way beyond his—he could not get past the idea of making love to her in the summer grasses and she was thinking about courtship. He coughed and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know many ways of your people, but I am not familiar with the white man’s courtship,” he responded as he tried to rein in his frantic heartbeat.
    She didn’t seem to notice his odd reaction as she explained. “We meet a man—a suitor, fall in love, and become betrothed, and then after a proper amount of time has passed, we get married. Is that how the Utes do it?”
    White Owl ran his tongue over his dry lips. “No.” Her silence told him that she was waiting for more details. He sighed. “We find a woman that we like and hide in the bushes and play songs on a reed or tell her riddles. If she likes it, then she will toss a rock at us. That is an invitation to spend the night in her tepee.”
    Rose was silent for a minute, and then asked, “You are then considered to be . . . together?”
    “No, if we enjoy each other, then we stay together. If not, then we keep repeating that ritual until we find a woman we like.”
    “Oh,” Rose said in a strange tone. “It is