Savage Heat by Ryan Nan

Author:Ryan, Nan [Ryan, Nan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical
ISBN: 9781453282397
Google: jpl1dkZAWaYC
Amazon: B009KY5P98
Barnesnoble: B009KY5P98
Goodreads: 2089153
Publisher: Love Spell
Published: 1989-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

21

It was the middle of the night. Windwalker’s Lakota camp was sleeping; had been sleeping for hours.

But Night Sun remained awake, keeping his vigil over the sick woman. His black eyes on her, he lay stretched out on his side, head resting in the crook of his bent arm. Studying her perfect profile in the firelight, he picked up one of her small, cool hands and put it softly to his cheek. And for a foolish, daydreaming moment he allowed himself to imagine that things were very different.

The beautiful young woman was not sick, she was only sleeping peacefully. And she was not his captive, kidnapped and brought here against her will. She was his life’s mate, content to sleep here beside him in this Dakota tipi for all the rest of her days.

“Martay.” He spoke her name softly with tenderness and yearning. She never knew.

Night Sun drew the small hand around to his lips, turned it over, and kissed the soft, cool palm. Then he drew it down to his chest, turned fully onto his back, and totally exhausted, fell asleep.

Not half an hour later Martay roused. Slowly emerging from the mists of fevered unconsciousness, half awake, half asleep, she looked curiously around. The first thing her eyes fell on was a long, many-feathered war bonnet suspended from the far wall of the tipi, but its presence didn’t frighten her. Neither did the large, round shield beside it, nor the lance, nor the banked fire in the center of the strange circular room.

In a calm, dreamlike state, Martay turned her head and saw him. Night Sun lay on his back holding her hand atop his chest. Smiling, she studied his handsome profile. And for a sweet, wishful interlude, she allowed herself to imagine that things were very different.

The darkly handsome man beside her was not a heartless savage who’d captured her. He was deeply in love with her, and they were not in a Lakota tipi in the hills, they were in a huge, soft bed in their fine city mansion where he would sleep beside her for a lifetime.

“Jim,” she said quietly, trying out the name. But it did not sound right. “Night Sun,” she murmured softly, her weak, thin voice filled with emotion. But he never knew.

Sighing, she slipped back into slumber. When Martay next awakened, she turned her head and found herself looking into the gleaming midnight eyes of Night Sun. Instantly she was outraged.

“What do you think you’re doing? You get out of my bed,” she demanded, a hint of fire in her dulled green eyes, and lifting a weak arm, gave his chest a push. “Get away from me!”

Night Sun was delighted. Her combative nature had returned; it could only mean she was a little better. He caught her flailing hand, wrapped his fingers around her fragile wrist, and said, smiling, “Ah, the sweetest words you’ve ever spoken.”

“Let go of my hand!”

Nodding, he released her wrist, and agilely rising to his feet, inquired kindly, “How are you feeling, Martay?”

She frowned up at him.

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