“Tomorrow at nightfall,” Marna said. “We will spend the day preparing you.” She paused. “Of course the mondava also signals the end of childhood for a woman and the beginning of maturity.”

Ah, Kira thought, now she understood why Marna had been so melancholy last night. She believed Kira would give herself totally to Zack and forsake all those she'd loved before.

“We're going to have to talk about your feelings, Marna,” Kira said gently. “Yes, we need to talk about a good many things other than memories.”

“The mondava,” Marna said flatly.

“In a manner of speaking. About maturity, anyway. It will wait, though. You've already given me too much to think about right now.”

“It will all come clear. Tomorrow night at the mondava.”


“Kira.”

It was Zack's whisper.

She woke instantly from the light sleep into which she'd fallen only a few hours before. She lifted her head from the pillow and saw Zack's dark silhouette framed against the pearly gray light of predawn coming through the opening at the front of the wagon. Kira cast a glance at the large form on the mattress next to her own. Marna hadn't stirred at Zack's low call.

Kira threw off the blanket and came swiftly to her knees on the pallet. She searched in the shadows of the caravan until she found her jacket and suede boots, and then crawled quickly to the front of the wagon.

Zack lifted her from the seat to the ground with careful and soundless strength. “I'm glad I finally found you. I think I peered into every wagon in camp. Put on your boots.” He waited while she pulled them on. It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been last night, even though she noticed that the huge campfire, which was the heart of the ring of caravans surrounding it, had burned down to gray ashes and flickering embers.

There was a touch of impatience in Zack's face as he took her hand. “Come on, let's get the hell out of here.” His voice was almost rough and it slightly startled her. She had never seen Zack impatient or rough. She gazed at him bemusedly as he pulled her away from the camp and through the woods. Then they were climbing a hill with a speed that made her legs ache a little by the time they reached the summit.

The sun had not yet risen and within the cluster of trees at the crest of the hill his face was still shadowed and unreadable as she faced him. “Zack? What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Dear heaven, yes, something is wrong,” he said in a husky tone of voice. His arms enfolded her with a crushing power that took her breath away. If there had been any left to take away. When she'd been brought with passionate violence against Zack's bold arousal, she'd lost both composure and breath in one swoop. “This is what's wrong.” His hands moved down to cup her buttocks and bring her closer still. His hips began to move against her in a slow, undulating movement that was mindlessly primitive. “I can't take it anymore. I thought I could last until Marna's damn ceremony tonight, but I can't do it. It's been too long already and I'm hurting.” His breath was coming in harsh gasps as his hands clenched on her soft, rounded flesh. “I tried everything last night. I counted a million damn sheep. I kept Paulo up half the night telling stories until he dozed off. I even tried to get drunk.” His laugh held an edge of desperation. “Indians are supposed to be susceptible to firewater, but it didn't faze me.” His eyes closed and his hands splayed out with a tactile yearning, rubbing and smoothing gently. “Maybe I was high already.”

She certainly was, she realized. She was dizzy and helpless from the sensations he was engendering with every touch. She could detect the faint scent of musk and soap and brandy that clung to his body. She had been a little chilly before, but she was burning up now. Her breath was coming in little gasps, as if she were being touched rhythmically by an electric charger. “Zack…”

His eyes opened and he glared down at her with an intensity that stopped the words in her throat. “Say it, dammit.”

She gazed up at him in bewilderment. “Say what?”

“Say yes. Say I can have you. Right now, with no more of this god-awful waiting. Say that I can stop hurting.”

He was hurting. She could see the agony that tautened his features and caused the skin to tighten over his cheekbones. And she could help him. The knowledge sent a flowing warmth through her to temper with pure joy the white-hot passion she was experiencing. She could stop his hurting, take away the hunger born of pain and bring him pleasure, then peace. “Oh, yes, Zack,” she said softly. “Please. Now.”

His breath was released in a little explosion. “Thank heaven! I know I'm being a bast-” He broke off. “I'll try to make up for it later.” He was drawing her closer with trembling arms. “Just come here and let me love you, Kira. Just let me love you.”

His hands were at the belt of her jeans; his attempt at unfastening them was oddly clumsy. The zipper made a soft, silky hiss as it slid down. His hands slipped beneath denim and silk to touch her, sending ripples of shock through her system. His palms were cold, but her own body heat quickly transferred warmth to them.

His nails raked lightly over the curve of her buttocks before moving around to caress the smoothness of her belly with hands shaking with eagerness. “Soft. Lord, you're so soft and sweet. I want to-” His hand moved down to the apex of her thighs and he touched her with a gentleness at odds with the roughness that had preceded it. “I haven't seen you here,” he said hoarsely. “When I was lying on that mattress last night, I could imagine every other part of you, because I'd seen how beautiful you were at the lodge.” His fingers found the place they were seeking.

She gave a low cry as he pressed and then began to rotate the spot slowly. Her eyes were staring blindly up at him and she had to clutch his shoulders or she would have fallen.

“Not here. I couldn't imagine how you looked or what response you'd give me when I did this.” There was savage joy glittering in his eyes. “But now I'm going to see you and touch you…” He pressed again and she jerked forward, arching helplessly toward him. “And pleasure you until you go out of your mind.”

She was already out of her mind. She felt as if every single nerve ending were on fire. She was tingling in the strangest places. The centers of her palms were throbbing and her toes wanted to curl. He stepped back from her, took off his jacket, and spread it on a pile of beech leaves on the ground. Then he was pulling her down on her knees on the coat to face him. The dry leaves rustled beneath his coat as he shifted to remove her jacket too. “Damn, I'll probably give you pneumonia. Are you cold?”

“If there's one thing I'm not, it's cold,” she murmured. Her hands were quivering as she pulled her sweater over her head and threw it aside. “I'm burning up!”

“I'll try to keep you burning up.” He stopped her as she started to unfasten the front opening of her bra. “Let me. I've been looking forward to undressing you. It will be like seeing a flower unfold, petal by petal.” He laughed huskily. “If I can make my damn hands stop trembling.”

They were still trembling as he opened the catch and slid the straps over her shoulders, as he slowly slipped the lacy scrap of material down her arms. Then he drew a shuddering breath, his gaze caressing the full swollen mounds. His eyes remained fixed compulsively on her as he pulled his sweatshirt off and threw it on top of her sweater. “Come here.”

His chest, bronzed, heavily muscled, feathered with a wedge of dark hair, looked deliciously soft and springy to her. She slowly leaned forward and his hands grasped her shoulders. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as he rubbed his chest back and forth against her with a sinuous catlike movement. “Zack…” She didn't even realize she had murmured his name. The hair on his chest was a soft, sensuous abrasion against her nipples as he moved. She could feel the muscles of her abdomen twist and knot, and the trembling of her body grew violent.

“You're sure you're not cold?” Zack muttered as his warm tongue moved against her ear.

“I'm not cold.” He couldn't seem to comprehend such a simple fact. “I'm about to go up in smoke. Why do you-” She broke off as his lips crushed hers with a force and passion that seared through her like a burning brand.

He lay her back on the coat, his hands drawing off her jeans and panties in one clean motion. His head lifted and he looked down at her. He sat back on his heels. His eyes were dark and almost glazed with need as they bored into her. “You look like a cossack and an empress all at once lying there entirely nude except for those boots.”

She hadn't been aware that she still had them on. She watched bemusedly as he pulled the right suede boot off and tossed it aside. His hand cupped one bare foot and rubbed the arch, massaging it gently. “You have strong, supple feet. I like that. Your entire body is strong and firm and womanly.” She was experiencing little shooting sensations from her arch to her calf. She had never heard that the foot could be an erogenous zone, she realized hazily. She shouldn't have been surprised. She probably didn't have a spot on her body that wasn't an erogenous zone if Zack touched it. His big hands were sliding up her calves now, his fingers massaging and exploring at the same time.

Then he was moving between her legs, parting her thighs gently while gazing at her most intimate part with eyes so dark and intent that she felt as if he were touching her there. “That's what I wanted to see. You're as beautiful here as everywhere else. Now when I'm thinking about you, I'll know and be able to visualize-” He broke off. “But I won't have to visualize anything anymore.” His hand reached up and cupped her with a loving possession that made her throat tighten with emotion. “All I'll have to do is turn over and pull the sheet down and look at you.” His fingers caressed her slowly, his narrowed eyes intent on the response he caused with every movement. His gaze lifted to meet hers as he slowly lowered his head. “I'll be able to rub my cheek against you and feel how warm and…”