The Major's Wife - Page 61

“In every way it matters, you are my wife,” he whispered softly in her ear. “And I’m very proud of that.”

Her eyes closed as his lips brushed her cheek, and she had to swallow at the welling of emotions blocking her throat before she could look up at him. “I’m proud to be your wife,” she whispered just as softly.

An intricate design of beads and delicate feathers had been sewn on the leather pendent that settled between her breasts. Lifting her gaze to Leah-Widd-I-Kah, and knowing this time a coin from her husband wouldn’t be sufficient, Millie unpinned the dragonfly brooch from the front of her suit jacket. Stepping forward, she kissed her friend’s cheek and then handed her the brooch. “Thank you. Ura.” she said, placing a hand over the necklace. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Pinning the dragonfly to her dress, Leah-Widd-I-Kah nodded. “Ura.”

Seth assisted Millie onto her horse again, and soon not even the tall stockade could be seen when she glanced over her shoulder. She missed it already, but when she caught her husband’s gaze, she smiled, even though her heart had never felt so heavy.

That night, Millie was overly surprised to see a tent come out of one of the wagons, because when she’d traveled to the fort they’d simply draped a canvas over the wagon and she’d slept beneath it. Now she crawled under the top blanket of several that created a soft pallet for her and Seth to share, wearing nothing but her new necklace.

Being in a saddle most of the day had left her inner thighs sore and her behind achy, but not so badly their nightly routine should be interrupted. At least those were her hopes, for it was then, when they were alone together, that she forgot the rest of the world existed. If the look on her husband’s face a few minutes ago was anything to go by, her hopes would be fulfilled.

They’d stopped shortly before dark, in a spot two men had ridden ahead to find and prepare. The soldiers had set up a total of four tents, while others cooked a meal that thankfully didn’t consist of beans—that had been a true fear of Millie’s. One of the men had set a kettle to boil on the fire, and she’d added some of the leaves Mr. Ryan had given her. While she’d seen to that, Seth had assisted in erecting their tent, and carried her travel satchel in after asking what she’d need out of the wagon.

The bag now sat near her feet, for the shelters were small, with barely enough room for the blankets creating their bed. She’d undressed while on her knees, but the accommodations were more than adequate.

The makings of a tepee had also been carried in one of the wagons, smaller than those outside the fort. She wondered how all five Comanche would sleep in it.

A breeze had picked up and was making the sides of the tent billow as it seeped in below the canvas, and she snuggled deeper beneath the cover, wondering how long it would be before Seth and the others turned in.

He didn’t make her wait much longer before crawling through the split-flap opening. “Hello, my sweet.”

The endearments he called her were never ending, and she loved each and every one. “Hello.” Voices could still be heard outside, so she kept hers extra quiet. “I was hoping you’d be in soon.”

Removing his boots, he answered, “I wanted to give you time to get undressed.”

When it came to this man, and her love for him, her boldness seemed to grow daily. Sometimes it even surprised her. Lifting the edge of the blanket, showing him her state of dress, she whispered, “That didn’t take long.”

He let out a low growl, and shrugged and scooted out of the rest of his clothes with additional speed. She was still giggling when he slipped beneath the covers and caught her hip, pulling her against him.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he said.

She stretched and arched, aligning her body with his while digging her fingers into the silkiness of his thick hair. “That’s what I think of you,” she said, making a point of moving her hips against his in a now familiar rhythm. “That you’re amazing.”

His kiss was long and tantalizing, one that had her desire quickening. When his lips left hers, roamed down her neck in a way that made her want to groan, she pressed her lips together. Her body was already responding to him, yet she whispered, “Do you think the men out there know what we’re doing in here?”

“Yes,” he said, rolling her onto her back. “They know.”

His hand molded one breast, and her response, “Oh,” was half moan, half reply.

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