Black Horse by Veronica Blake

night. He remembered coming to look for Meadow, and then he had tripped and fallen down…but that was all he remembered. He didn’t think he had drunk that much.
    “I must have gotten lost when I was going to my own lodge last night,” he said with a shrug of his bare shoulders. “White Buffalo probably saw me wandering around and took pity on me, so he let me—”
    “My father would not leave you alone in here with me, so I don’t think that’s what happened.” Meadow crossed her arms over her breast and drew in a nervous breath, adding, “And, he certainly would not have let you sleep in here like that.” She motioned with aquick wave of her hand toward his naked body, which was partially covered by the blanket.
    “Maybe I—” Black Horse dropped his hands down on his thighs. He had no explanation for this. “I am sorry if I have put you in a bad way with your father. White Buffalo is a respected man in the tribe.”
    “I’m sure he does not know you’re here. I think he must have slept in the center of the village with the other drunks.”
    “I should go, then,” Black Horse said in hardly more than a whisper. He scooted closer to where Meadow was sitting. She was so close now that he could reach out and touch her again, and this was a temptation he could not resist. His hand shook as it rose up in the air and reached out for her hand. To his amazement, she did not try to stop him as he picked it up and clasped his fingers around hers. An odd sensation passed through him as he gently held her hand, and it had nothing to do with the obvious way she affected him physically. He just wanted to hold her hand—to hold onto her—forever.
    As the sun from the smoke hole brightened the interior of the lodge, Meadow could plainly see the tenderness in his handsome face. He was staring at her so intently, and he seemed so confused. She wondered if it was possible he really didn’t know what tepee he had bedded down in last night. He looked so different from yesterday, when he had stood proudly outside the tepee in his finest garments and enormous headdress.
    Now, sitting here on the hard ground, a bewildered expression on his face and his long ebony hair tousled around it, he reminded Meadow of a lost little boy.
    She had the urge to put her arms around him and tell him that everything would be well. Instead, she began to focus on the way he held her hand so gently in his own—and of the way this simple gesture set all of her insides ablaze with that odd feeling of pain and pleasure.
    Meadow ran her tongue across her parched lips and held her breath for a moment. She knew he had to leave before someone caught them like this, but she could not force herself to pull her hand away. Her gaze met his, and it was as if the rest of the world did not exist. She leaned forward, instinctively drawn to him.
    His lips touched hers lightly at first, as if he ached to be near her but was slightly unsure of her reaction. He reached up and placed his hand around her head. She could feel the strands of her long hair entwined in his fingers. His lips pressed harder against her soft mouth, and she leaned in even closer to him.
    Never had Meadow imagined that she would experience such an overpowering feeling of bliss from her first kiss. All of her fears dissolved, and every inch of her body felt like a million hot coals had just invaded her. The feel of his lips against hers was like a magical journey that she wished would never have to end.
    When they were forced to part for air, Meadow thought she could live forever without taking another breath if it meant she could feel his lips against hers for the rest of her life. She felt his hand slide under her chin, raising her face up so that they were staring into one another’s eyes again. His dark gaze caressed her, and everything outside of this moment was mute.
    “Oh, green-eyed woman, what strong magic youmust possess. You have put me under a spell,” Black Horse said