Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558) (16 page)

She might not be yours anymore, he reminded himself. He had to accept that truth no matter how much it hurt. “Was anyone injured in the storm?”

“Not that I know of.” Josh dismounted. “That was a strong wind to take down those logs. I didn't know you were building an addition. You could have asked. I would have helped you.”

He could see the toll the loss of his wife had left on Josh. It wasn't right to ask his friend for help when he was grieving. Besides, building the house had been something he had to do alone with his own two hands. It had represented his future with Marie.

Josh had no idea what was at stake, and it was best that way. Night Hawk gestured toward the stable where he'd fashioned a living space out of two box stalls in the back. “I dug the cookstove out of the wreckage, and I've got a hot fire. Come in and warm up. I'll boil some coffee.”

“I'll have some of my ranch hands come help with this.” Josh followed him, his gait slower these days. “We can get that mess cleaned up. A lot of the logs look in good shape.”

“Some I can use when I rebuild.” Night Hawk hadn't thought about the future until that moment. But he would rebuild. A single ice storm could not destroy the future he wanted so desperately. Hadn't the hawk spirit guided him to the fort? Hadn't he heard a hawk calling to him just before the cabin was demolished?

Night Hawk would continue to fight. Marie was his soul's desire, his one and only. The other half of his heart that made him complete. The right to claim her
as his was worth any amount of work. Making her happy was worth any sacrifice.

 

Marie struggled against her afternoon dizziness as she stepped through the fort gates. At least the doctor's advice about ginger water had calmed her stomach enough so that she could return to work.

Classes would begin tomorrow in the fort's chapel, thanks to the chaplain's generous offer. She'd gone toe-to-toe with her father and found a compromise of sorts. Since the ice storm's destruction meant he needed to stay to oversee the repairs, Marie had talked him into letting her remain at the fort for a while.

Not because Henry liked the idea. He didn't even want to look at her. But because she would look irresponsible walking off at the start of a new school term. A month would give Marie the time she needed, and by then Henry would have hired a teacher to replace her.

A strange feeling shivered down her spine, leaving her tingling. It was the same way she felt whenever she was with Night Hawk—as if she were more alive. When she looked up, she saw him tethering two huge draft horses to the hitching post near the mercantile's front steps.

His back was to her as he looped the thick leather straps around the sturdy post. Long icicles hung from the wood, and he knelt to break them off in thick handfuls so the shards wouldn't damage the reins.

He looked so good. Even from behind. His back was strong and wide. He straightened from his work, and he saw her. The air snapped between them. Her
hopes fell as she watched him react. His shoulders tensed. His eyes narrowed. He looked away as if he were trying to figure out how to avoid her.

Why did she have to pick this exact moment to go shopping? She couldn't stand the way he was looking at her, as if she were a mistake he'd made, as if he regretted the love he made her feel. He might love her, but so much pain was between them. She would not run to him and cling. She would wait until he was ready to claim her.

“Marie.” He called out in a quiet, intimate way.

Maybe it was his voice, or seeing him again, but hearing him say her name as if they were still close, as if they were lovers tore her determination into shreds.

She wanted to run into his arms right here in the middle of the settlement. She didn't care if it was proper to show public affection or not. She wanted the entire world to know this man was the love of her life and that he'd given her his child. He was the only man she wanted to call husband.

But he did not open his arms wide to greet her. He held out one hand, as if to help her like any man would along the path.

He was being a gentleman, no more. She took a slow breath, accepting his help. Afraid she wanted more than he would give.

“I'm glad to see you looking better.” He leaned close, his free hand cupping her elbow to give her more support on the ice. “I hear school starts tomorrow. Does that mean you'll be staying?”

His actions and his words seemed casual, but was
that a hitch in his voice? Had she imagined it or did his question tremble, as if her answer mattered to him?

“Yes,” she said carefully. “I'll be staying for a while, although my father and I are not getting along.”

“I see.” The tension drained from his shoulders, and when he smiled, she dared to hope again. “Then it is not your father keeping us apart.”

She waited while a sleigh slid past on the street. Every bit of her became perfectly still. Night Hawk seemed aloof, but exhaustion bruised the skin beneath his eyes and he looked raw, somehow hungry, the way she felt at the thought of losing him.

The tension remained tight in his shoulders, and his gaze did not waver but held her carefully, as if waiting expectantly.

“Is that what you still think? That I'm ashamed of you?” Remembering Henry's horrible words, Marie blanched. “That couldn't be possible. There isn't anything about you that I'm not proud of. The man you are. The way you work with horses. Your home and your land.”

“Why do you say that?” His gaze narrowed, as if measuring her carefully. “You're used to a comfortable lifestyle, Marie. You are a gently bred lady who has always had a housekeeper.”

“That doesn't mean I don't know how to cook and clean. And I take care of Kammeo's stall by myself.”

His eyebrow shot up skeptically.

“It's true. Ask any of the stable boys.” She felt the knot of pain and worry inside her loosen. “Is that what you think? That I want a pampered lifestyle?”

“It crossed my mind.” The left corner of his mouth
twitched as if he were fighting not to grin. “It occurred to me a few times.”

“I'm not like my father.” She was angry, she was confused, she was in love with this man and she didn't know what to do. “Have you thought all this time that I'm a spoiled colonel's daughter? Is that why you—”

“No.” He took her hand in his, and even through the layers of his leather gloves and her wool mittens she could feel his heat. It dazzled her.

“You told me that your father asked you to choose. But if you choose to be mine, I want you to come to me with no regrets.” Night Hawk grew very still. “That is, if I am lucky enough that you would want me.”

“I would have no regrets if you asked me.”

He nodded once, as if he finally understood.

She wanted him to propose to her, to say the beautiful words that would make her his fiancée. Then she could tell him about their baby. But they were not alone, and this was not the place to tell him, where a passerby could overhear.

Although they were in the middle of the square with only the horses to shield them from view, Night Hawk leaned his forehead to hers. His skin was warm, and gazing into his dark eyes intimately made her see what he'd been afraid to risk. His heart was full of love for her, a silent and honorable love.

Just like the man.

 

Josh and his men had gone home at dark, but Night Hawk continued to work. An icy wind blew tiny snowflakes over him and kept trying to douse the lantern,
but nothing was going to stop him. Not now that he knew for sure.

A while, she'd said. That's how long he had. Maybe he should have asked exactly how long that was—a couple weeks? A month? Two? Either way, he intended to work on their house every waking moment.

It had to be ready for her. He wanted it to be perfect for their life together.

He tied the rope around a thick log and whistled to the draft horses to start pulling.

 

It was too cold for them to meet, and she'd promised her father, as a condition of her staying for a while, that there would be no more unchaperoned visits to Night Hawk's home.

But she thought of him constantly. She dreamed of him at night when she lay alone in her bed. Watched for him in the settlement or at the stables, hoping for a chance meeting. Her morning sickness lingered, even when her waist began to expand a little more as the weeks passed.

Time was running out. Henry had gruffly spoken to her one evening to say that a teacher had been hired. He'd purchased tickets on the stage for her return to Ohio. Then he'd left before she could argue, treating her as an unwelcome visitor in his home.

It will all work out, she assured herself. It had to. Night Hawk wanted her, she was certain of it. They just needed time together to work out the details. A spring wedding, maybe. Joy filled her at the thought. She laid her hand on her stomach, carefully concealed by a pretty overskirt and apron.

Before she told him about their child, she wanted to hear the words first of how he loved her and wanted her for his wife. She knew for sure now that he would, and she could hardly wait for him to come to her. What a surprise she had for him!

 

The injured hawk cried in protest as Meka ambled into the stable. The bird and dog disliked each other, and their antics at least filled his lonely evenings.

“Don't let him get to you,” Night Hawk advised the bird as he tossed a chunk of smoked venison in the air. “You'll be flying by the end of the month.”

The hawk hopped into the air to catch the meat and nodded his head, as if he understood.

Night Hawk stepped around Meka and opened the cookstove door. Heat stretched the skin on Night Hawk's face as he loaded wood on the fire. Soon the flames were crackling merrily, and he hoped it was enough to drive away the ice in his bones. It was nearly midnight.

Every muscle in his back, legs and arms burned from exhaustion, but he'd finished clearing away the last of the rubble. There was no more devastation, and he could start over again.

For Marie. How he ached to see her. Soon she would be his wife. Sleep at his side. Fill his life with her joyful presence. I would have no regrets if you asked me, she'd told him and with all his being, he believed her. Finally.

Tomorrow he would start to rebuild. Maybe not the grand house of his dreams, but a large and roomy home. Satisfaction lifted him. Maybe it was because
it was a part of his heritage, or maybe it felt satisfying to be simply providing a home for Marie, but he felt good about himself as a man and a Sauk. He would build a lodge for his wife, as his father had done for his mother.

Then he and Marie would fill the rooms with their love. And the children made from that love.

Children.
That was an image that pleased him. The thought of Marie cradling his son in her arms filled him with a fierce, protective love.

What a happy life they would have.

 

The dream came on quiet wings and a stormy sky. Black clouds stretched from north to south and lightning slashed the horizon. The western horizon where the future lay.

The nearly silent beat of a hawk in flight circled overhead. Night Hawk's moccasins were stuck to the ice—to the thick glistening sheen of ice from the storm—and he could not move. Not west toward the future. Not east toward the past.

He could only tip his head back in wonder and watch as the giant hawk glided over the ruins of his lodge destroyed by the wind. A white man's lodge he'd built for the woman he loved.

The giant hawk, dark as midnight, glided over the ruins and saw all things. All that the dwelling meant. What it represented. And what would be.

Night Hawk watched, feeling the power of the bird and the wisdom of its spirit. As if in slow motion, the great hawk plucked a white feather from its own wing with its beak, then dove straight toward Night Hawk.

No, this cannot be.
Even in dream, he fought the truth the spirit hawk brought him. He didn't want to take the offering, he would not touch the feather. He steeled himself against the mesmerizing pull of the majestic hawk, but as the creature neared, Night Hawk could see the sorrow in his eyes. The sorrow from a great sacrifice.

The hawk had come to him. There was no one else to accept the offering. Night Hawk held out his hand and the magnificent creature laid the perfect white feather on his palm. The hawk cried once and rose into the sky again, ready to continue its journey.

Ice fell in torrents, chilling him to the bone, freezing him where he stood. On the land where his father was buried. On the land where he'd dreamed of spending his life with Marie.

Thunder clapped, the hawk disappeared at the horizon's edge. Night Hawk snapped awake, his hand still clutched as if holding a feather.

Sweat dripped off his brow. His pulse drummed in his ear. He sat up, breathing so hard that the sound filled the darkness.

He did not have to ask what the dream meant. Or look at his empty hand where he'd dreamed of receiving the feather. A dream where a hawk sacrifices a part of his body can mean only one thing.

Night Hawk buried his face in his hands. In a place beyond tears, where pain was greatest, he tried to find the strength to do what he must. To do as his spirit guide told him—to sacrifice his love for Marie.

A white woman didn't belong with him. It was what his own father would have said.

But would his father have asked him to give up the one woman made for him?

No, it cannot be. He wouldn't believe it. Everything that was Hawk within him rebelled. He tossed off the blankets made long ago by his mother and sister-in-law and stormed across the aisle to the tack room. He pulled on white man's woolen socks and white man's leather boots. He tugged a white man's sweater over his head and grabbed a store-bought wool coat.

He would build his house. He would have his wife and his family. Nothing, not even the great Colonel Lafayette could stop him.