Epilogue
"Smile!"
"Aislinn, my face is about to crack from smiling."
"I don't doubt it. It's so unusual an expression for you." She laughed at her husband's dark scowl. "Look this way, Tony. Look at Mommy."
She clicked off two pictures while Tony had his head turned in the right direction. He even proudly displayed his new front teeth in a slobbery grin.
"Now stop working with those cameras," Lucas said, moving toward his wife. "This is supposed to be a party."
"I'm having a wonderful time," she said happily, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Her eyes were sparkling. "I'd rather be taking pictures of you and Tony than anything in the world."
Lucas looked at her with open skepticism. "Bet I can name something you'd rather be doing."
"Lucas!"
Now it was his turn to laugh … at his wife's exasperation. "However, I'll admit Tony and I do make good subjects, don't we?" he said, proudly looking at his son, who resembled him so remarkably.
Tony's eyes were already turning the same gray color as his father's, and they had a rim of blue around them which he had inherited from his mother. His hair was jet black, but not as straight as Lucas's. His cheekbones were just as prominent, but he had enough baby fat to round out the cheeks beneath them. He was a picture of good health.
"You are my favorite subjects anytime." Aislinn hugged them both, nuzzling her husband's strong throat, while her son tugged on fistfuls of her hair.
"Hey, will the three of you break it up?" Gene said, handing Aislinn a glass of punch. "You're supposed to mingle."
"Give Tony to me," Alice said, joining them. She had a cookie in her hand and that was bribery enough. Tony put up no fuss when Lucas passed him to his grandmother, though he was usually reluctant to leave his father's arms. "Willard and Eleanor want to see him."
"Now, stop making goo-goo eyes at each other and go shake some hands," Gene told Lucas and Aislinn, pushing them toward the crowd of people milling around the office.
The reception was to celebrate the official opening of Lucas's law office. The publicity surrounding his vindication, coupled with the publication of Aislinn's photographs in a national magazine, had brought renewed public awareness of the plight of many of the Indians who lived on the reservations.
Lucas wasn't deluded by this rush of interest. In his lifetime he wouldn't see an end to all the oppression, whether it was intentional or not. But every step he took in that direction was gratifying.
He was extremely conscientious about appearances. He never wanted it to seem that he had profited from his conviction and the subsequent reversal. He never forgot who his clients were. Even today, he had worn a white shirt, tie and sports jacket, but he had on jeans and boots with them. He hadn't worn a headband, but the silver earring was in his ear. And behind his desk, hanging on the wall, was a framed portrait of Joseph Greywolf dressed in the full regalia of a chief. Many of the attending dignitaries commented on the photograph, which had been taken when Joseph was in his prime.
"How much longer before we can go home?" Lucas asked Aislinn after an hour of smiles and handshakes.
"The invitations Alice sent out said from two till six. Why?"
"Because I want to get you home and in bed."
"Shh! Somebody might hear you."
In full view of their guests, he lowered his head and kissed her on the mouth.
"Behave, Lucas. This reception is in your honor." She tried to sound scolding, but couldn't mask her pleasure in his spontaneous display of affection.
He toyed with a strand of her hair. "I could just haul you out of here, you know."
"Kidnap me?"
"Uh-huh."
"You did that already."
"It was the smartest thing I ever did."
"It was the best thing that could have happened to me."
Unaware of the conversations buzzing around them, they stared searchingly into each other's eyes, finding the love they knew they would. Johnny Deerinwater finally broke them apart by coming up and thumping Lucas on the back while he heartily shook hands.
They played host and hostess for the time required and eventually the crowd began to dwindle. "We haven't spent any time with Mother and Father," Aislinn said, taking Lucas's arm and guiding him toward the couple who were sitting across the room talking to Gene. Lucas made a complaining sound. "They've come a long way, Lucas, and I'm not referring to the distance they drove today."
"I know," he conceded. "I'll be kind. After all, he's building that new wing to Gene's clinic."
As soon as Willard and Eleanor departed for Phoenix, Alice asked if she and Gene could keep Tony overnight. "We don't get to see him often enough. And you have to drive back tomorrow to clean up the office for Monday's business anyway. Please?"
They consented and left for home, just the two of them. It was a beautiful evening. The sky was star-studded and a full moon hung low over the mountains.
"You know, I think I've become part Indian myself," Aislinn said musingly. "I love all this," she said, nodding toward the horizon.
"You gave up a lot, Aislinn," Lucas said quietly, keeping his eyes on the narrow road that led to the ranch.
She took his hand from the steering wheel and held it, pressing it hard until he looked at her. "In that other life, I didn't have you. I didn't have Tony. I would never trade back."
Indeed, she had severed all her connections in Scottsdale. The condo had been sold. She used her equity in it to buy playground equipment for several of the schools on the reservation. She had sold the photography studio as well, and after using part of the profits to expand her darkroom and camera equipment, bought Lucas a magnificent stud for his herd. The day the animal was delivered, he had struggled with his pride to accept the gift.
Aislinn had laid her hands on his chest and gazed up at him imploringly. "You've given me so much, Lucas. Let me give you this."
He had accepted the horse because it was a gift of love from her. Too, the stud would strengthen his herd. Its offspring would be valuable. The more profitable the ranch, the more young men Lucas could hire as hands who might otherwise go jobless. One of the first buildings to go up on his property had been a bunkhouse to house the six cowboys he had already hired. They ably ran the ranch so he could devote more time to his law practice.
Now, Aislinn looked at Lucas's stern profile etched against, the moonlit sky and her heart swelled with love. She could barely contain the happiness that had been hers since Tony had survived the bout with pneumonia.
"I hope the pictures I took today turn out well. Especially the ones of Tony." Her husband seemed to sense that she wasn't finished, so he said nothing. "I still get the shivers when I think how close we came to losing him."
He withdrew his hand from hers and rubbed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "We promised that we would never forget it, but we also promised that we wouldn't dwell on it either."
"I know," she said, softly kissing his knuckles as they stroked her lips. "I was just thinking about that day. You telling me that you loved me, then Warden Dixon showing up with his news, and almost immediately after that the doctor informing us that Tony would pull through." She smiled at him. "Whew! So much good stuff at one time nearly did me in."
"You're certainly in a reflective mood tonight."
"My way of celebrating how happy I am."
He pulled the car to a halt in front of the house and slid his gray eyes toward her. "Well, I've got another form of celebration in mind."
"And what would that be, Mr. Greywolf?"
They didn't even waste time turning on lights, but let the moonlight, shining in through the windows, guide them through the house into the bedroom.
Lucas whipped off his jacket and slung it onto a chair. He unbuttoned his shirt. That's as far as he got before his passions ruled him. He reached for Aislinn and pulled her into his arms. She dropped the jacket of her suit onto the floor, barely having had time to take it off.
His mouth retained the same hot fierceness it had had the first time he kissed her. His bitterness might have mellowed, his prejudices might have been tamped down, he might have come to accept and appreciate the Anglo half of himself, but Aislinn hoped that the savage nature of his lovemaking would never be tamed.
He touched the front of her blouse, groping for buttons. He released them one by one as she plowed all ten of her fingers through his hair, holding his mouth hard against hers. He tugged the blouse from the waistband of her skirt, unfastened the clasp of her bra and pushed the lacy cups aside, then covered her breasts with his hands.
His callused fingertips and palms were excitingly abrasive against her smooth flesh. They worked their magic, and when she was primed for his mouth, he took her between his lips and made her very wet.
They both groaned with pleasure when he lifted his mouth once again to hers and drew her breasts against his chest. He held her tight against him, wrapping his arms as far around her as he could reach, bending his head down low over hers.
"I don't ever want to remember when you weren't a part of my body," he said huskily, squeezing her closer. "I don't want to remember when I didn't love you."
The romantic speech was so unlike him that she treasured it all the more. He had learned that admitting to profound emotions didn't compromise his heritage or manhood. Still, he rarely voiced aloud his deepest feelings. When he did, as now, Aislinn cherished every precious word.
With their mouths fused in an ardent kiss, he slipped his hands beneath her skirt and moved them up her thighs. He played with the tops of her stockings and the suspenders of her garter belt, which he had expressed an extreme liking for and which she favored him by wearing often.
He cupped her derriere and positioned her against him, maximizing the sensations for both of them. Moments later, she stepped out of her panties. His hand slid between her thighs. And up. And inside. And he let her die a little before bringing her back down with soothing kisses and whispered endearments.
"Lucas," she murmured weakly, wilting against him like a flower that has experienced full bloom.
"God, you're beautiful." He wound his fingers through her hair, pulling hard. "My wife. My woman," he murmured possessively, and held her even tighter.
After sharing a violently passionate kiss, she backed away from him. To his eyes, she was a vision of sexy disarray, with her mouth dewy from their kiss, her hair tangled about her head and shoulders, her blouse and bra open but not off, her skirt rumpled.
He stood still, slightly surprised, when, keeping her eyes riveted to his, she peeled his shirt off his shoulders. After letting it trail from her fingertips to the floor, she pushed her hand beneath his ornate, turquoise-studded belt. "Remember when you carried the knife here?" she asked. "It was extremely phallic."
"It was?"
"It was."
She worked her hand into the waistband of his jeans, the backs of her fingers pleasantly gouging his hair-dusted belly. Then her eyes still focused on his, she backed toward the bed, towing him with her, until the backs of her knees touched the edge of it and she sat down.
He looked sinister and dangerous with the moonlight shining on his dark beauty. It made his hair appear blacker, his eyes lighter, his body lithe and sleek and menacing. The cross hanging from his neck only made his throat and chest appear stronger by contrast. The silver earring winked at her.
With an airy touch, her hands drifted over his chest, his nipples. Her fingers combed down the ridges of his lean ribs until they reached the shadowy dell of his navel. He raised his hands to his belt buckle.
"No," she said.
When his hands obediently moved back to his sides, she made a ballet of unfastening the belt buckle. Fingers had never been so nimble, yet so agonizingly controlled and unhurried. The metal clinked musically in the darkness. His rushing breath was the only other sound breaking the total stillness.
One by one she popped free the heavy metal buttons on his jeans until all were undone and the fly was open. The smell of his soap and his skin and his sex greeted her warmly, muskily. She wanted to swallow his smell.
"You are so beautiful," she whispered. "So tall and strong and … hard."
Tipping her head forward, she pressed her open mouth to his navel. She slid her hands inside his jeans and eased them down. Slowly. Seductively. Softly.
He gave a hoarse cry when her tongue touched him.
Again and again and again…
Much later, as they lay entwined, naked now, basking in each other's body heat, she kissed his neck and whispered into his pierced ear, "I love you, Lucas Greywolf."
"I know."
And because he did, she was content.
The End