Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558) (6 page)

“I brought tarts today,” Marie informed him as they finished currying Kammeo after her training session. “I picked the apples this morning.”

“Mrs. Olstad let you in her kitchen?”

“Not yet. She baked for me and complained the
whole time.” Marie ran her fingers across the mare's neck. Soft, supple fingers that stroked and caressed.

What would it be like to know her touch? To feel the satin heat of her skin to his? A groan rose in his throat and he turned away, hauling the saddle to the stable to hide his response. Every step away from her brought him only distance but no relief.

She wasn't meant to be his, but still his body yearned to know her touch on his skin.

This is crazy, he told himself. No good could come of these feelings. He wasn't the sort of man she was looking for. He knew without asking. Allowing these feelings of love and attraction to flourish would cause him grief and nothing more.

He'd be logical, not emotional. Sensible, and force out his physical attraction to her. That's what he'd do.

When he returned from the barn and saw Marie laying out her red checked blanket in his shaded front yard, all reason fled. Desire for her flared like a windswept firestorm, incinerating every good intention.

He wanted her. The way a man wanted a woman. Fierce and sweet, fiery and tender and all-consuming. He could no longer lie to himself. Denying his lust for her wouldn't extinguish it.

“Meka!” Marie's carefree scolding was accompanied by a chuckle. “Out of my basket, right now. You'll wait for your treat like everyone else.”

The big black dog, who was more of a loner than Night Hawk, wagged his tail and dove into the basket. Unrepentant, grinning broadly, Meka chewed and swallowed.

“You're proud of yourself, are you?” Marie rubbed
the dog's head as she snatched the basket from the front step.

She knew the moment Night Hawk came into view. She could feel his presence. He was watching her, smiling, cradling something from his garden in the crook of his left arm.

“You have watermelon!”

“I have to contribute something to our picnic. I can't let you bring all the sweets.” Night Hawk lowered the melon to the blanket and cut it.

His nearness sparkled like sunlight. It felt as if they were connected like dawn and twilight, earth and sky.

“For you.” He held a bright piece of juicy melon and she ate from his fingers.

 

Marie lingered at the forest's edge. If only she could stretch this moment and the next, then maybe their time together wouldn't end.

As if Night Hawk felt it too, he halted one step from the main road to the fort. “We'll have you in the saddle tomorrow.”

“You mean, I can ride her?”

“She's ready.” Night Hawk handed Marie the empty basket he carried.

Excitement trilled through her, both at the thought of riding her mare and the man who towered next to her, dark like the shadows, proud like the ancient forest. Meka tore off into the underbrush chasing a gray jay, leaving them alone.

Marie watched Night Hawk's gaze focus on her mouth. In the space between one heartbeat and the next she felt her entire body blaze.
He's going to kiss
me.
The knowledge pummeled through her.
Yes, kiss me.

His eyes darkened as if he was tempted, and then he took an abrupt step backward. Disappointment didn't douse the fire sparkling in her veins.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

The fire within her only burned hotter. Tomorrow—it was a promise and a gift.

She pushed through the low boughs that guarded the private trail from the main road. Long shadows met her as she hurried toward the fort's busy gate. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw only shadows but felt the heat of his gaze.

Night Hawk feels this, too.
She wouldn't wonder and wish any longer. There was no mistaking that he'd wanted to kiss her. She was inexperienced but woman enough to know Night Hawk liked her.

The ground felt like clouds against her feet as she rushed past the dark mercantile and noticed that it was closed for the day. Was it that late already? She lifted her skirts and ran.

There were only two soldiers standing guard at the gates. The fort grounds were empty as she dashed through them. Her spirits fell at the sight of her father rising out of his chair on the porch. He frowned at her as if she were a soldier dodging orders.

“I know I'm late, Papa,” Marie began the instant she was close enough. “I lost track of the time. I hope you didn't wait supper on me.”

“Of course we did.” Henry rose slowly. “Major Gerard came to dine with us. He's waiting inside.”

“Oh, Papa. Not Major—” Marie caught herself in
time as a movement blurred in the shaded doorway. “Good evening, Major. My father tells me I've kept you both waiting.”

“No need to apologize.” Ned Gerard smoothed a long shock of blond hair across his forehead with a hint of nervousness. “A gentleman never minds waiting for a beautiful lady. Let me take that basket for you. Were you picking berries?”

Marie kept hold of the wicker handle. “No, I was watching Night Hawk train my new mare. She's almost ready for me to start riding.”

“What mare?” Henry's voice lowered to a chill. “I distinctly told you that if you wanted a horse, I would provide you with one.”

“I told you I bought a horse.” Marie skipped up the steps and wished just this once he would greet her with warmth and not reproach.

Ned opened the door for her.

“Major,” Henry growled. “Would you be so kind as to inform Mrs. Olstad she may begin serving the meal? I need a moment alone with my daughter.”

“Certainly, sir.” The major caught Marie's gaze with a hopeful look, one that told her he was glad to be dining with them tonight. With her.

Henry snuffed out his cigar on the banister rail while he waited for the door to close. He didn't look at her, but she could feel his fury. “I did not give you permission to procure a horse on your own—”

“I don't need your permission, Papa—”

“But spending an afternoon alone with a man without a chaperon. I don't know what's become of you, Marie.” Henry's disappointment showed in every
deep line on his proud face. “I expressly told you Sergeant James will escort you—”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don't want my only daughter wandering the dangerous wilderness alone without an escort. I want you to marry well and you can't do that if your reputation is in tatters.”

“Because I want to ride a horse? There's nothing wrong—”

“Because you spend time alone with a man. How many afternoons have you gone to him, Marie?”

“But you said Night Hawk—”

“Think of what it looks like, what a false rumor could do to your reputation.” His commanding manner softened and he looked almost caring. “I could not bear it if you were wrongfully shamed, Marie.”

If he'd been commanding, she would have argued with him. But seeing the rare and precious concern in his eyes—a father's concern—she felt the fight ebb out of her.

“I'm doing nothing wrong, Papa.” She laid her hand over his. “Not one thing.”

“You are a good girl, I know that. But other people—”

“Are other people.” Marie couldn't withdraw her hand and end this rare moment of contact.

Maybe she was too soft, but she loved her father. She wanted his love in return. “Fine, I'll tolerate this meddling you're doing tonight—and only for tonight. But I'm never going to fall in love with Major Gerard.”

“How can you know a thing like that? He's the right sort of man.”

“It's something a woman knows deep in her heart. Now stop trying to matchmake and come inside. I don't want to keep supper waiting another moment. Mrs. Olstad is angry enough with me already.”

To Marie's surprise, Henry
almost
smiled.

T
he stars blazed in a velvet black sky so bright they hurt Night Hawk's eyes. But on a night like this, serene and unsettled, the brilliant sky comforted him. It was the same firmament his ancestors had looked to since people had come to this place of wooded hills and sweet meadows. Tonight the bear burned brightly, and the warrior stood close guard to the horizon.

Remembering the formations in the stars brought pain and gladness to Night Hawk's heart. His father had taught him about the heavens when he was a boy. About the turning wheel of stars and moon that guided a warrior through the forest, told a hunter when the geese would migrate, when the bear would hibernate and when trout would brim the river.

At a time like this when Night Hawk was troubled, he could sit on the rise that overlooked the woods and lake below, where the moon blazed a path of light across the dark waters. Memories ran like a river's current, fast and breathless and too difficult to hold on to.

Meka nudged Night Hawk's hand for a pat, and he stroked the dog, burying his fingers in short thick fur.

I wanted to kiss her.
Night Hawk groaned with the memory of Marie's mouth as soft looking as a wild rose petal. Blood thickened in his veins. A need for her whipped through him until he shook with it.

He launched to his feet, pacing through the meadow where nighthawks hunted and owls glided by on soundless wings. Frustration pounded him like wind-driven hail.

Meka's bark echoed across the low-rising meadow, announcing a late-night visitor. Night Hawk turned toward the road, already recognizing the faint crisp clip of a powerful gelding's gait. The colonel.

Night Hawk felt his stomach clench, and he knew this was no business call. Henry Lafayette hadn't come to discuss business or request help for an injured horse. Not at this time of night. Not judging by the brisk, almost angry snap of his horse's gait.

Preparing for the worst, Night Hawk ordered Meka to heel and cut through the meadow. A last quarter moon cast scant light across the wildflowers waving in the breezes. A badger snarled at the edge of the clearing, where a small creek whispered a melody, and Night Hawk knew just how the badger felt.

“Henry,” Night Hawk greeted the dark rider. “This must mean your daughter has told you about her mare.”

The colonel drew his gelding up short, the man's tension causing the animal distress, as he dismounted heavily from his saddle. “Marie is young and impulsive, but I expected better of you, Night Hawk. You've
always been a man I can trust whenever I've turned to you for help.”

“I had no intentions to harm your daughter, Henry, and you know it.” Night Hawk understood a father's protective nature, yet he would not be intimidated by anyone. He was a warrior, a brave who'd fought his first bear at thirteen, who'd lost his father and many of his clan a year later. He'd been a man long before the colonel had set foot on this land they called Wisconsin.

“Your daughter is no child, Henry, and I am no weak-willed man. You know well I'd never harm your daughter or any woman, white or Indian.”

Henry drew himself up taller, his rounding middle tensing, his shoulders straightening as if ready to fight for his daughter's honor. Seconds ticked by, marked by his short, angry puffs of breath.

Then his shoulders relaxed. “I know the man you are, Night Hawk. I didn't come here to accuse you.”

“You came to vent your anger on me. A father's anger at a daughter no longer his child.”

“She's a woman all right and she needs a firm hand.” Henry sighed, a long pent-up frustrated sound that made him less the imposing colonel and more a concerned father. “I shall have to lock her up in her room until the school term starts.”

“She'd merely climb out the window. She's a young bird spreading her wings.”

“And she'll ruin her reputation if she's not careful,” Henry muttered, showing the true issue behind his anger and frustration. He marched up the dark road, dragging his gelding by the reins.

“Her reputation is in no danger with me. You believe that?”

“Yes.”

To his credit, there was no hesitation in Henry's answer, and it stung Night Hawk's conscience. Hadn't he been dreaming of Marie's mouth the same instant her father had been riding down this road?

Shame filled him, as thick and cold as a winter's fog. Ashamed because he'd delighted in the warmth of Marie's presence, fed her watermelon from his fingers and wanted to see her again. Hell, he didn't want to
see
her. He wanted to taste her sweet lips and hold her the way a man embraced a woman.

Night Hawk stepped inside his back door and grabbed a bottle of scotch from the pantry shelf, kept for the colonel's visits. He faced a truth he'd known all along.

These forbidden afternoons with Marie had to end.
Now.
Her laughter would no longer grace the wind. Her brightness would no longer complement the sun in his meadows. Her woman's beauty would no longer make hunger sing in his veins.

He snatched two clean cups from the kitchen shelf and headed into the cool night, resolute. He was wise enough to let go of what he could never have.

“The problem I have is this.” Henry thanked him for the scotch. “I've got a daughter who needs to settle down. She's twenty-one. Another few years and she'll be a spinster too old to marry. That's why I brought her out to teach at the settlement's school. She doesn't know it, but I intend to see her married before her term here is over.”

Night Hawk set the bottle aside and leaned against the corral fence. He could see what was coming and he didn't think he could stand listening to the colonel discuss possible husbands for Marie—all white, all successful and with much to offer her. “You need to discuss this with your daughter, Henry.”

“I just want to make you see what I'm up against. Why she can't be wandering about the countryside coming to your ranch to visit a damn horse. And why she can't have whatever horse you sold her in the first place.”

“You want to protect her.”

“I want her married. I want to stop waking up at night worrying about what is going to happen to her. Is she safe living on her own? Is she happy? Am I ever going to have a grandson?” Henry took a deep swig and emptied his cup.

Night Hawk handed him the bottle.

Henry poured a liberal dose. “I've busted my hind-quarters trying to work my way up in this world to provide a better life for my daughter. And now she thinks she's grown-up, when she's nothing more than a child. She needs an advantageous marriage.”

To a high-ranking officer.
Night Hawk swallowed his disappointment and stared hard into the scotch, smooth and dark in his cup. His stomach clenched, and he set the cup aside. “One of your majors?”

“Exactly. That's the way a man thinks. See the logical advantage and work toward the goal. But a woman—” Henry drained his cup. “They buy a horse they don't know how to ride.”

Night Hawk stalked away. He wasn't going to dis
cuss Marie with her father. Henry wanted a confidant, but Night Hawk had his pride. Heart aching, he strode through the familiar shadows of his backyard, past the garden to where the mare leaned over the top rail, nickering quietly.

“Good girl, Kammeo.” He rubbed her cheek. The comforting feel of a horse's velvet warm and steeled power comforted the breaking of his heart.

No, he wasn't in love with Marie. Not yet.

“The mare is nearly saddle trained, Henry.” Night Hawk battled to keep his business tone. “I just need a few more hours with her. She can be in your stables by the morning.”

“No deal.” Henry stood, hands empty, his anger spent. “I don't want to break an agreement, but Marie won't be needing a horse. She'll have Ned Gerard's ring on her finger by the time the leaves fall, mark my words. If you need the money, I can buy the mare for the fort—”

“No.” Night Hawk let his answer boom through the darkness. Watched its effect on Henry.

“Ah, yes, well, I know where you stand. My captain of horses is one of the best I've seen.” Henry scooped his reins from the post, sounding regretful, sounding contrite. “I know you disagree with his methods.”

Disagree? They went against everything Night Hawk stood for, but he remained silent. His words wouldn't change how horses were treated at Henry's fort and would only bring discord between them.

“Good night.” Henry mounted with a creak of leather and the impatient sidestep of his gelding. “If Marie comes this way again, I want your word that
you will escort her home immediately. And notify me.”

“Keep watch on your own daughter, Henry.” Night Hawk could make no promises.

Nor could he watch the man leave. Night Hawk climbed through the rails and laid his hand on Kammeo's back. He felt the animal's life force, strong and vibrant and as brilliant as Marie's.

The two belonged together.

He knew what he had to do, knew it meant he would never look up and see Marie appearing from the shaded wood or feel her laughter ripple across his skin. He eased onto the mare's back and waited while she twitched and sidestepped, first afraid, then uncertain, then accepting.

Night Hawk steeled his heart and told himself it didn't matter. He was like the hawk that hunted alone against the stars. And always would be.

 

“A note came for you.” Mrs. Olstad tapped on Marie's open bedroom door. “I hope you don't think I'm your personal messenger. See it doesn't happen again.”

“Yes, thank you.” Marie took the folded parchment from the frowning housekeeper and unfolded the paper.

A bold, proud scrawl marked the page. “Look in the stable,” was all it said. She didn't recognize the handwriting.

Night Hawk? Was he at the fort to check on another horse? Was he hoping to see her?

Joy swept through her like morning sunshine. He'd
kept his parting promise to her—they would meet today. She tingled from head to toe as she selected her favorite bonnet from the top shelf of her wardrobe and then hurried a comb through her unruly locks.

He was going to teach her to ride! Oh, the thought of his hand on her elbow as he helped her into the saddle. The anticipation of his mellow voice as rich as the night. She hoped this time he would be brave enough to cover her lips with his….

She flew down the stairs and out the kitchen, Mrs. Olstad's rebuke to not run in the house followed her out the door. Slow down, she reminded herself. She didn't want to show up at the stable out of breath and covered with dust. But it wasn't easy as she walked down the path that wove to the back of the fort.

The stable doors were open. The interior felt oven-hot as she made her way inside. The stalls were empty. The scrape of a pitchfork against wood meant a stable boy was cleaning.

Where was Night Hawk?

She ambled down the main aisle, and her step echoed in the rafters overhead. She expected to see him kneeling down in a box stall, tending to a horse. Maybe they would walk back to his ranch together and they would spend all afternoon in the sunny meadow riding Kammeo. Marie could already feel the wind in her hair and the happiness from having Night Hawk at her side.

She started down the back aisle; the scrape of the pitchfork grew sharper as she approached.

“Are you Miss Lafayette?” A boy, who didn't look more than a day over fifteen, tramped into the aisle to
her right, holding a dirty pitchfork by the worn wood handle. “Night Hawk come by with something for you. Told me to make sure you saw it.”

“He's gone already?” Disappointment doused her joy like ice water. “What did he leave me? A saddle?” It was the only thing she could think he might bring to the stable.

“Well, partly.” The lad pointed with the pitchfork's tongs. “Last stall to your right. He says it's yours.”

A horrible feeling washed through her. If Night Hawk had sent a note but hadn't stayed to see her—

A familiar neigh split through her fears. Marie missed a step when a horse's red muzzle reached into the aisle. The horse nickered in welcome, shaking her head up and down with excitement.

“Kammeo.” Marie curled her fingers through the mare's mane. Where was Night Hawk? Why had he left?

Footsteps shuffled in the row behind her, not Night Hawk's gait but the stable boy's. “He said she was ready to ride. Left a saddle and bridle in the tack room. I sent word to my captain, but I ain't heard if I'm supposed to saddle her for you.”

“She's ready to ride? That can't be right.”

“That's what he said.”

Had Night Hawk finished Kammeo's training without her? No, he wouldn't have done that. He wanted her and Kammeo to learn together. That was the reason he agreed to sell the mare to her in the first place.

What was she to do now? She hadn't paid him. She didn't have any idea what a horse like this cost.

“He said there was somethin' else.” The stable boy
stared hard at the floor. “I remember. He said the mare is a gift.”

A gift? Marie pushed away from the mare, shaking as if she'd been caught in a blizzard's arctic wind, and rushed down the aisle.

Blood pounded in her ears as she ran. Why hadn't Night Hawk kept his promise to her? He'd nearly kissed her yesterday evening. His affection for her had burned like an unmistakable blaze—in his eyes, in his voice, in his touch.

Why had he done this without an explanation?

Papa. He must have spoken with Night Hawk. Anger drove her out of the stable and down the path toward the administration buildings. She jerked open the door just as her father was walking out.

“Marie Janelle!” Henry glared down at her. “Your hair is a mess, and your dress! What has gotten into you, young lady?”

For once she ignored his criticism. Too much anger raged in her heart—a woman's heart and not the girl he wanted her to be. “I want to know what you said to Night Hawk.”