No Other Man (23 page)

"Your mother really was in love with me, Skylar,"
he told her coldly. "I was strong; she was weak. Your precious father was
weak and naive—"

"My father was loyal. And honest. And a million other
fine things you'd never even recognize—"

"Was.
An important
word in this conversation. He is now very dead, my dear," Dillman said
matter-of-factly. "I've been enduring this petty argument with you for
over a decade now, and I'm sick to death of it, Skylar. The rules have changed
once again. You know me, I know you. You behave, you learn to keep your mouth
shut and obey. You cause me any trouble and I can reach you; I'll kill you. You
try to convince anyone that I'm a danger to you or your sister, and I can
promise, you'll wind up in an asylum for the insane—you know that I can do it.
You've been fighting all this time, most of your life, Skylar. And when the
hell has anyone ever believed you? When have you ever managed to beat me? You
can't. Give it up. Because I'll win. And I'll do whatever it takes to see that
I do."

"Murder me?"

He shrugged. "If necessary. But it would be such a pity.
You're really such a beautiful—if vicious—little creature. I always thought you
were a pretty little thing, even as a child, but you know, my dear—and you
should know well—that I am not a stupid man. I'd not have made advances to you
or your sister while my dear wife lived, but then ... I'm in mourning right
now, of course, over your mother, but a man can be eased from his sorrows by a
woman like you."

She was going to be
sick. "I would die first!"

He leaned against her, laughing. "Skylar, you continually
miss the point. You have been a thorn in my side forever. You might well die
an
accidental
death, but surely, after all
these years, I deserve at least a bit of entertainment from you. You could be
quite amusing. I wouldn't think of killing you until after I had discovered
what charms you may or may not possess.''

"You idiot bastard! I will get away—"

"I'll track you down. And have you locked up."

"I'll—"

"Notice, Skylar, I have you by the throat. I could
squeeze my fingers tightly now, and you would pass out. I could do whatever I
chose to do. Ah, imagine. Were you to go making accusations against me, I could
build a case of dementia against you. Then they'd lock you up. In one of those
places. Skylar, have you ever visited such a place? The insane! So pathetic. We
must do our Christian duty by them! Yet how horrid to live among them. So many
of them hosed down rather than bathed. Poor creatures, crying, screaming into
all hours of the night! I, your loving stepparent, would visit. Why, my dear,
they've not really rooms in most of those establishments; they've cages and
cells. With locks and keys. I could come and we could play for hours. And no
one would ever hear your screams."

"God, you are wretched! But I will get away—"

"Umm. If you should, well, actually, I have always preferred
Sabrina. And the poor dear. It's amusing, really. I'm her legal guardian. She'd
have to be very, very far away to escape me, wouldn't she, Skylar? How would
you ever do it? How would you manage the resources to do it? I'll follow you
to hell, girl, and so help me, I'll have it all my way. Are we
understood?"

Understood. Oh, God.

And it had gotten worse from there. Or better. If only
Sabrina would arrive here quickly now. She could see her
sister,
standing behind Dillman, trying to tug him away from Skylar.
She could see Dillman laughing. Turning on Sabrina. Threatening, promising,
touching...

She
remembered herself flying into action, She could see
it
all again, relive it. See Dillman
falling, falling, falling, screaming. She could see his legs, twisted, and hear
her
sister.
"Go, you have to go! If he lives, he'll have you hanged, imprisoned, put
away—"

"I can't leave you—"

"Skylar, you've got to! You've got to get completely
uway, disappear! We'd be too visible trying to escape together, and he'd get
the law out after both of us. He still has a legal claim on me; he's still my
guardian. But I'm safe for the moment! He can't hurt me now. Go! Find us a way
out, a new life, Skylar, not a prison sentence!"

"I can't—"

"Then we've got to kill him!"

"No! It would make us what he is! We can't—"

"Then you've got to run. Can't you see, he can't hurt me
now."

"I'll get word to you as quickly as possible. Go to
Pike's; Jimmy Pike is our only friend."

"Go! My God, go! Get far away before he can send someone
for you, before he can come, before—"

Words faded, darkness swirled around her. There were hands,
reaching for her, dragging her down, pulling at her. She heard his laughter,
felt herself falling, unable to breathe. She saw his face, and felt his
touch...

There was a bursting sound as the door to the room swung
open. She heard it dimly, far in the back of her mind. Then her name.

"Skylar!"

She fought the web of sleep that wrapped around her. Someone
was touching her. Hands, strong hands were upon her. She screamed, her eyes
flying open. Darkness seemed heavy all around her. She was being held while
shadows hovered in the hallway.

"Skylar!"

Oh,
God! She woke fully and exhaled raggedly. It was Hawk. She realized that she
was shaking; a fine sheen of perspiration bathed her flesh. He was holding her.
Fingers threading through her hair. He wore a crimson smoking jacket, the V top
loose. He drew her against the bare flesh of his chest, stilling the trembling
that seized her.

"It's
all right," he said to the shadows in the doorway. "She was
dreaming."

Shadows melted. The door was closed.

"Oh, God!" she breathed.

She
swallowed hard, fought the emotions the vividness of the dream had brought home
once again. She bit into her bottom lip, preparing for the onslaught of
questions he would snap at her now.

But
amazingly, he was quiet, fingers running gently through her hair.

"I
think the entire house heard you screaming," he said softly at last.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's all right."

She opened her mouth, still seeking an explanation.

But to her amazement, he spoke first again.

"One
might have thought I was in the act of scalping you. Are you that afraid of
coming with me over the hills?"

"Afraid
of the hills?" she repeated. "No, of course not, I'm not—" she
broke off, realizing far too late that he had assumed she had been dreaming of
an Indian attack! "I—"

He
pulled away from her, lifting her chin. The firelight was low, and it was all
that illuminated the room. Still, she knew that he saw quite well in the dark,
and that he was studying her now. It seemed too late to dissemble now.

"I'm not afraid of going with you."

"Why were you screaming?"

She
managed a smile. "I really didn't mean to convince the entire household
you were scalping me."

"Then?"

She was
startled by the warmth that filled her as his

Ihumb moved over her cheek. She lowered her lashes, shaking
her head. "Monsters," she said with a shrug. "I don't really
know. It was a nightmare. Dreams are so terrible, but then they fade so
quickly. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb everyone."

"And you're not afraid? Of riding with me?"

She
shook her head again, sighed, and admitted, "No— I'm not afraid."

"You just don't want to come."

"I—"
She paused, trying to study his features in turn. Hut he gave nothing away. His
eyes seemed almost as dark us his countenance in the shadows. Yet his very
austerity seemed to offer her a strange sense of security now. His force and
body heat offered a strange comfort

Her
lashes swept her cheeks. "Lord Douglas, I do strive to be a good wife. If
you wish company on a journey, then 1 would most obediently oblige you."

"Ah!
At least until the wire is sent, Lady Douglas?"

She glanced
up at him, but he laughed softly, drawing her against him. "You really
need to sleep, Skylar. Morning will come quickly. It probably would help if
you'd tell me the truth about that dream."

"I—I told you—"

"Monsters.
Umm. It's amazing, Skylar. I seem to be able to force almost anything from
you—except the truth."

"You don't want to believe the truth."

"Want to tell me about the dream?"

"I told you—"

"What? You told me what, Skylar?"

"It's—gone. I don't remember the dream."

There
was a strange disappointment in his eyes as he looked at her then. "Never
mind, Skylar. Whatever—or whoever—those monsters are, I promise, you're safe.
They'll not get by me."

He drew
her closer, moving his fingers through her hair, over her cheek. "Skylar,
try to sleep. I'll be here. Nothing will hurt you. No one can hurt you."

But she
sat up, looking at him in the shadows. He was a man of so many contrasts. With
his ruggedly hewn, bronze features and straight ebony hair, he might have appeared
strangely out of place at Mayfair. Yet he did not. He looked very much like his
father as well, wore the smoking jacket with complete ease, lay upon the handsomely
carved bed with natural comfort. Likewise, his temper could flare so quickly,
his violence surge, yet in startling moments, he could betray a gentle touch of
tenderness.

"I
swear to you, I never hurt your father," she told him. "I didn't
hasten his death in any way."

He
sighed softly, reached for her, and drew her down to the covers against him
once again. Her cheek lay against his bare chest. She was grateful for the
warmth. Glad to lie against him.

He
stroked tendrils of hair from her forehead. She thought that he would not
reply. That he did not believe her.

"Skylar,
you've got to sleep. You'll be sorry if you don't, I'm telling you."

"Do you believe me?"

"I'm
not sure that I want to believe you now," he said softly.

"Why not?"

He
hesitated. "Then I'd have to apologize for attacking your stagecoach,
wouldn't I?"

She smiled and closed her eyes.

"Yes."

"But
then again, maybe not. You were out here to lay claim to my property,
hmm?"

"Have I managed to claim any?"

"You
might be surprised," he murmured. "Go to sleep, Skylar."

She lay
with her cheek against his heart and listened to its beat.

And slept.

* * *

It
was early when he
awakened her, ridiculously early.

She'd fallen into a deep, restful sleep, so she was especially
irritated when the covers were wrenched from her and she heard, "Up, Lady
Douglas. Thirty minutes, and we're on our way."

She grabbed the covers, dragging them back over her head.

Once again, they were wrenched away. She still didn't bother
to open her eyes. "I can't!" she murmured. "You'll have to go
without me."

Then she felt a stinging swat on her backside. Indignantly
she leaped up to a sitting position, staring at her tormentor.

Hawk was dressed in dark buff buckskin, his jacket and boots
fringed. His head was bare, his black hair falling loosely to his shoulders.

"Lady Douglas," he told her, his impatience held in
check with mock gallantry, "your mule awaits."

' 'Mule?'' she gasped.

' 'Thirty minutes. I left you a mug of coffee by the water
ewer. Get going."

"If you're serious about a mule, it had best keep
waiting!" she warned.

"Thirty minutes. The mule may be patient; I am
not."

She rose and washed quickly, then dressed in what she hoped
would be an appropriate outfit for a ride into wild country—cotton shift,
petticoat, and calico dress—and good riding boots. The sun could be very bright
by day, but the nights could be cold, so she brought her hooded wool cloak. She
created a blanket roll with a second dress and underclothing and then hurried
down the stairs with a few minutes to spare.

Meggie was at the front door, shaking her head. "Riding
off at the crack of the dawn, and not a decent breakfast into a one of
you!" she said unhappily.

Hawk walked in from the porch, an empty mug in his
hands.
Meggie glanced his way, shaking her head. "Ye've mil even fed the lass,
Lord Douglas!"

He arched a brow, looking from Meggie to Skylar. "I'm
not setting out to starve my wife, Meggie; we've just got a busy morning ahead
of us. We're already leaving hours later than I had intended. Besides, we've
had your fine coffee, Meg, and I packed your biscuits in our bags." He
handed her his empty mug and touched her cheek affectionately. ' 'I do trust
you, of course, to hold down the fort in my absence. We'll be gone one to two
weeks, I believe." He winked, looking at Skylar once again. "Skylar
is sending for her sister today, Meggie. I can't imagine that a lone woman
might come all this way west before we return, but then she is Skylar's sister,
so I assume anything is possible, don't you think, my love?" he queried
Skylar.

She ignored him. "My sister's name is Sabrina
Connor," she told Meggie. "And I imagine that she can make it out
here in a week, assuming she can manage connecting train schedules and a decent
stagecoach ride north from the railhead."

"It took you two weeks," Hawk commented quietly,
for her hearing alone.

"I had a few things to attend to along the way."

"Really? What things?"

"Personal affairs," she told him.

"Umm," he murmured, his dissatisfaction with her
reply obvious. "Eventually, Skylar, you will answer my questions."

"Eventually, I may."

"At the moment," he said irritably, "it seems
like it's taking me two weeks to leave my own damned house."