Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558)

Night Hawk.

Savior of women and children, and wild-horse tamer. How could he be real? He had to be a dream, a figment of her imagination, her idea of a perfect man.

Except she was wide awake, and this was no dream. She could smell the straw and horse scent of the stable. She could see the flicker of light on the man's hands as he inspected the gelding's fetlock, feel the wind rustling her skirts.

And hear the beat of her own heart.

He stood—all flesh and blood man—and his gaze pierced through the shadows and pinpointed her. “Miss Lafayette. What are you doing out of your father's house?”

“I didn't make a sound.”

“Your skirts did.” The light flickered over him, worshipping high, sharp cheekbones, a well-proportioned nose and a hard, carved jaw.

Something within Marie's heart clicked. Just like that. As a lock finding its key at the right moment.

Could he be the one? The man she'd been waiting for all her life?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Fort Tye, Wisconsin
1840

T
he fort loomed like a fairy tale against the sparkling river and wild Wisconsin forest. Marie couldn't believe her eyes. Was this real? Was this truly where she was going to live?

She leaned out the open window of the stagecoach. Amid the rich green backdrop of the forest, the fort shone like newly polished wood in the hot summer sun. It was an impenetrable fortress like the castles of old. And it was her future.

“Welcome to Fort Tye, Miss Lafayette,” Mrs. Webster said over the noise of the rattling stagecoach. “And stop leaning out of that window. Who would teach the children if something happened to you? Your father would have my head. Come in, now.”

“I don't want to miss one single thing.”

She felt as if a whole new world had been spread before her, and she was near to bursting with the won
der of it all. The beauty alone fascinated her. It was so different from back home with its tidy streets and tended houses all in a row.

This was a wild land untamed and filled with the possibility of adventure around every turn.

“Calm yourself, dear.” Mrs. Webster, seated across from her, chuckled. “It's just a fort, nothing special at all and, believe me, after one Wisconsin winter, you'll be desperate to head back to your aunt's pretty little home.”

Mrs. Webster didn't understand, and Marie knew she couldn't tell her why. She didn't want to speak of the pain of her childhood and of the father's love she'd always ached for. A love that seemed just out of her reach.

How did she say that here in this beautiful, wild land, she would live with her father again. Maybe this time she could make things right between them. Marie crossed her fingers and held the wish close to her heart.

“My Jeb works for your father, the colonel,” Mrs. Webster continued from inside the stage. “Dear, you'll hurt yourself. Please, come inside. You're giving me a fright.”

A sharp cry carried on the wind, and Marie tilted her head up. A hawk soared across a powder blue sky, wings spread as if to touch the brilliant sun.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Marie asked.

“Why, I must have seen a thousand of them.”

The graceful bird glided on broad wings and out of sight.

The stage rolled around a corner, and a broad river sparkled with the sun's touch. A few houses and buildings huddled together near its grassy banks.

This is the settlement?
It was smaller than she'd imagined. And beyond the huddle of buildings stretched a maze of thick woodland and danger. She felt a strange thrill looking into the shadows of the forest….

The stage bounced hard. Marie rapped the top of her head against the window frame. She rubbed her hand over the sore spot and didn't look away from that shadowed place in the forest. She felt as if there was something—
someone
—looking back at her.

The shadow moved, and darkness became a mounted man. Black hair, black eyes and bronze skin. He was as dark as the shadows. Dressed in trousers and a deerskin shirt, he looked as wild and proud as the horse he rode.

The stage jolted to a stop outside the fort's gates, and Marie almost slipped off her seat. She righted herself and turned toward the window.

He was gone. Only shadows carpeted the forest floor where no sunlight touched the thick ferns and bracken.

Had he been real or a dream?

Marie kept searching for him as she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

“You take care now, dear, and give my regards to your father.” Mrs. Webster hesitated at the door. “I hope Fort Tye is everything you've hoped it to be.”

“I hope so.” All her life she'd imagined accompanying her father to one of his posts, and now it was
truly happening. Marie grabbed her reticule from the seat and took one last look out the window. The man—image, shadow or dream—was gone.

There goes your romantic fancy again.
Marie sighed. She was always daydreaming, something her father frowned on.

Please, let him be glad to see me.
She knew he'd be here to greet her—he'd promised her in his last, brief letter. Nerves gathered in her stomach and made her hands clammy beneath her gloves as she grabbed the edge of the door frame and climbed onto the narrow step.

Where was he? She searched the strange faces of the people bustling around the entrance to the fort. Where was Papa? This time he'd promised to meet her. And she wanted to believe this time was different than all the other times he'd forgotten or been too busy.

The sinking sensation in her heart felt as heavy as lead. Careful to keep her chin up, she hopped off the last step and touched solid ground.

Maybe he was late. Or she hadn't seen him yet in the small crowd. The stage
was
a few minutes early….

She stood alone, feeling like the stranger she was. Everywhere she looked people greeted one another, stopping outside the wooden steps to the mercantile to exchange news. Everything looked so different from home and she felt lost. Surely Papa hadn't forgotten her this time.

“Miss Lafayette?” A uniformed soldier broke apart from the crowd. “Your father, the colonel, sends his apologies. A situation arose—”

“I understand.” Marie tried to steel her heart against the disappointment. It wasn't this man's fault Henry was the way he was. “Will he be along shortly?”

“I'm afraid he'll be engaged for most of the afternoon. I'm Sergeant James. I'm your father's assistant.” The officer avoided her gaze, as if he didn't know what to say. “Are these your trunks?”

“Yes.” She hated the look of sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for her. “He forgot, didn't he?”

“No, miss, he's simply busy—”

“He didn't realize that I arrived today.” Marie refused to let the hurt show in her voice. “Don't worry, Sergeant, I'm used to it. I know my father.”

“Just wanted to spare your feelings, miss.” The sergeant tugged on his cap. “I'll see to your trunks.”

Marie began to thank him when a horse's high, shrill neigh trumpeted above the sounds on the busy lane.

Suddenly a pair of iron-strong hands banded around her arms and yanked her back, away from the dirt road.

She stumbled against an unyielding, male-hot chest. Even through the layers of her traveling clothes, his heat scorched her and tingled along her skin.

For one brief second she felt the strangest thrill. She couldn't describe it. Her heart was racing, her chest tightened and an odd ringing filled her ears.

She knew she ought to be terrified, but she wasn't. Time slowed down, and there seemed to be nothing in the world but the protective shelter of his arms. She
didn't even know who held her, whether he was friend or foe, young or old.

Then he released her.

Time snapped back, the noise from the street and the crowd filled the air, and Marie nearly stumbled. Breathing again, she felt him brush past her arm. He was running toward the street, and she saw the danger.

A runaway horse clipped past her so close she could feel the heat of his breath. His lethal hooves slammed into the ground, obliterating her shoe prints in the thick dust. The renegade flew past her, then swerved to avoid the stagecoach.

A little girl stood directly in his path. Marie leaped into the road, but she was too late. A man wearing a deerskin shirt scooped the child to his chest and rolled out of the renegade's path.

Not soon enough. The gelding was on top of him, skidding to a stop, bugling his fury. Wild, out of control, it reared up, hooves slashing the air, and then landed again. Marie heard a man's grunt of pain, and a bullwhip cracked in the air behind her. The wild horse leaped over the man in the road and flew toward the river.

“Are you all right?” The sergeant appeared at her side. “You could have been killed.”

“I'm fine.”

“Cassie!” A woman darted out of the mercantile and raced down the stairs. “Cassie!”

The man holding the child rolled one final time and climbed to his feet. Marie saw his face, the dark eyes and long black hair, the chiseled bronze face that could have been made of stone.

The man from the forest.

Just seeing him made her heart beat painfully fast. He was like no man Marie had ever seen before. She could only stare as he brushed the dirt from the child's locks and handed the girl over to the housekeeper responsible.

A tender gesture. Marie couldn't believe her eyes. How could such a tough man have such gentle hands? She remembered the strength in them as he'd pulled her safely out of the gelding's path. The same strength that kept a frightened child safe now.

Instead of crying, the little girl stuck her thumb in her mouth and gazed up at the man holding her. The child went wordlessly into the worried housekeeper's arms. The woman couldn't stop thanking the man enough for saving the child.

He's bleeding.
Marie saw the stain on the man's shirtsleeve, spreading with each passing moment. He'd risked his life for a child, and she couldn't look away.

The housekeeper crossed the street, muttering about how fast children could move. The men mounted up to join the army officer to bring in the dangerous horse.

Marie stood on the side of the street as the men rode off, the dark hero among them. He guided his black stallion bareback without aid of bridle and raced out of sight.

Admiration burned like a new flame in Marie's heart.

“Looks like they'll need help bringing in that killer.” The sergeant appeared at her side with a plump, elderly woman at his side. “This is Mrs. Kel
sey. She'll look after you while I help with the roundup.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” But he was already swinging up onto his horse.

“Dear me, what a sweet little thing you are.” Mrs. Kelsey took Marie by the hand and tugged her toward the brightly painted mercantile. “I hope you weren't frightened at all. If it hadn't been for Night Hawk, I'd hate to think what would have happened to both you and that little girl. I was standing at the window, and what I saw nearly scared me to death.”

Night Hawk. His name must be Night Hawk. Marie hesitated on the top step and gazed toward the bend in the road.

She could no longer see him, but the image of him lingered. Dark, brave, proud. His long black hair brushed by the wind. A man who would have traded his life for a child's without hesitation.

“Come right in here, dear, and let me get you some cold water.” Mrs. Kelsey held open the stout wooden door. “You need to sit down after a scare like that.”

“Really, I'm fine.” Marie could still feel the heated imprint of Night Hawk's hands on her arms. “Is the child all right?”

“There's not a scratch on her.” Mrs. Kelsey's voice lowered as she led the way down the aisles and through the noisy store. “Now, sit right down here on this stool and I'll fetch you a drink.”

“Please, don't go to any trouble—” Marie started but couldn't finish the protest.

Mrs. Kelsey had already bustled away, her skirts
rustling. She returned with a dipperful of sparkling cold water. “Drink it all, dear, you'll feel better.”

An elderly woman stepped close to the counter, clucking sympathetically. “Poor dear, a near miss like that. Why, you must be the colonel's daughter come to teach our children.”

“That's right.” Marie took the dipper with trembling hands. A few drops landed on her dusty skirts. She could still feel the heat on her skin from Night Hawk's touch.

She drank the entire dipperful because Mrs. Kelsey kept fussing. When she was done, she looked over her shoulder through the small front window that offered a view of the dirt road and the river beyond.

Where was Night Hawk now? Was he safe? How badly had he been injured? Questions buzzed inside her like the conversations in the crowded little store. Most of the customers were discussing the renegade horse and how close the little Ingalls girl had come to being killed.

But no one mentioned Night Hawk.

Marie returned the empty dipper and thanked Mrs. Kelsey. The minute she slipped off the stool, the older woman was there, shaking her head.

“You're still trembling, dear, and flushed as can be. Stay right here and when Sergeant James comes back, I'll have him take you home straightaway.”

“I came to no harm, thanks to Night Hawk.”

As if saying his name had brought him to her, the door opened and he filled the threshold. Noble and mysterious, wild and civilized. The conversations si
lenced and a tension filled the room. Night Hawk headed toward the front of the store.

Directly toward her.

Marie slid off the stool, her knees suddenly like water.

But he wasn't looking at her with his dark, fathomless gaze. “Mrs. Flanders, how is Cassie?”

The housekeeper grabbed hold of another rambunctious child, a boy, ready to dart down an aisle and out of reach. Then she shifted Cassie on her hip. “First thing she did was try to run off. As you can see, it put no fear into her at all.”

“I'm glad.” Night Hawk's stone face relaxed into a slow grin and he brushed one bronzed knuckle against the girl's pale cheek. “Did you like me grabbing you like that?”

“Night Hawk! Let's do it again.” Cassie smiled adoringly up at him.

“Not today, cowgirl.” Night Hawk withdrew his hand and stepped away.

He
was
part dream, Marie decided.

Then the man named Night Hawk focused his eagle-sharp gaze on her. She felt it like a touch to her soul.

“Are you all right, miss?” He strode toward her with the grace of a wolf stalking prey. “I must have startled you, but I didn't want you harmed.”

“I owe you a great debt, sir.” Marie eased around the corner of the wooden counter, and there was nothing between them. “I cannot thank you enough. You saved two lives.”