Candace McCarthy by Fireheart Page B

eyes as Fireheart nibbled on her skin, then turned her hand to kiss her wrist before taking her fingers and placing them on his bare muscled chest.
    His flesh was firm, wet, and warm from his body heat. Joanna began to touch him, loving the feel of him, the scent of his skin . . . the sound of his breathing as it deepened.
    “Fireheart,” she whispered. She was drawn to him as she’d never before been attracted to another. The awkwardness between them was gone. It had disappeared somewhere back at the lake. Here, in the forest clearing, they were man and woman. Fireheart and Autumn Wind . . . alone together in the night . . . and wanting.
    She slid her hands over his chest up to his nape and pulled his head downward. She yearned for his kiss again. His kisses were intoxicating, tender, and sweet.
    But the passionate meeting of mouths in no way resembled the previous kisses. It was a hot fusion of lips and tongue while hands fondled and stroked damp flesh and bare buttocks.
    He kissed a path down her throat, pausing at the base before trailing lower to her breasts. She waited with breath held as he lifted his head before capturing a nipple with his mouth.
    Joanna caught her breath in the sure joy of his suckling her. She cradled his head with her hands, wound her fingers in his long, wet hair, and arched closer.
    Fireheart lifted his head and eased Joanna to the ground, while embracing her. The scent of pine and other forest vegetation filled Joanna’s senses as Fireheart stretched out next to her. She lay open and vulnerable to his gaze and his touch, and she gloried in it.
    He began to caress her, beginning with her hair, then her face, and lower. But Joanna wasn’t content to be still. She stroked his chest, then reached to pull his head down once again for another kiss. As their lips touched, the fire of passion ignited between them.
    “Joanna. Autumn Wind . . . you are soft and smooth and I want to touch all of you.”
    How could he be expected to marry another when he clearly desired her? Joanna tried not to think about the Indian maiden Moon Dove whom Little Blossom had said he would marry.
    Yet, how could he not marry Moon Dove when she herself had no future with Fireheart? When she must return to England and manage her estate?
    His fingers brought her heaven. His lips coaxed her most passionate response. Joanna fought to banish the reasons for stopping, but the image of Moon Dove and the overwhelming responsibility of managing her late uncle’s property hovered outside the haze of ecstasy, intruding.
    She caught Fireheart’s head and held him away from her. “Little Blossom said that you will marry Moon Dove. Is that true?”
    He frowned and rose to his knees. “It is true that I must take a wife. It is possible that Moon Dove will be my mate, but that has not been decided.”
    Joanna experienced an odd little pain in the region of her heart. “Do you love her?”
    Fireheart scowled, clearly reluctant to talk about his prospective wife. “She is a good Lenape maiden. This man cares for her.”
    “How do you feel about me?” she whispered.
    “Joanna . . .” His face contorting with passion, he reached for her, lifting her into his arms. He touched her face and then kissed her. His lips tenderly worshiped her mouth and cheek before he buried his face in her neck and just held her.
    Joanna was convinced that Fireheart felt something special for her. His tenderness, his caring, and his reluctance to declare his love for Moon Dove gave her hope that this time between them would be a cherished memory, if nothing more.
    Suddenly, it became vital that she gave herself to this caring man.
    Fireheart was all that was good and true, and Lenape. Joanna lay back against the rich forest carpet, and pulled Fireheart down so that she could lie with him ... and love him.
     
     
    The sun slanting in through the smoke-hole in the roof of the wigwam woke Joanna the next morning. She thought back on her time with