No Other Man (26 page)

she would send for Sabrina. And when Sabrina went to her...

Well,
now she wasn't a child anymore. But she still hadn't discovered what she was up
against.

He'd find her.

And when he did ...

She'd
be easier to kill than her
honorable
damned
father.

Where to look ...

He
smiled suddenly. High. If she'd had correspondence, she would have hidden it
high. Where a crippled man couldn't find it.

He started to laugh.

Thirty
minutes later, he was making his own plans for travel.

And
though it was late, he was a senator. He had no difficulty summoning an aide
and explaining that it was necessary his telegram get out that night. He was a
part of the government of the United States, a lawmaker. If there was anything
he could do to help his country in the current Sioux situation, he naturally
had to become involved, no matter what personal dangers it might entail.

He slept very well that night.

Better than he had slept in a long, long time.

As he
drifted into slumber, he imagined proving his power to her, taking his revenge.

He'd find her.

Oh,
God, yes! He'd find her. And now he was close, so very damned close ...

Bless
her! She couldn't begin to imagine how damned close!

Hawk didn't seem to require very much sleep. When Skylar
awoke, he was up, bathed and dressed, sipping coffee. Late last night, they'd
drunk the champagne, eaten the fruit, cheese, and bread on their elegant
platter. Skylar still felt exhausted.

Hawk, apparently, did
not.

She saw
that he was losing patience waiting for her to

rise.
He was coming toward her. She remembered the less than dignified rap she'd
received upon her person the morning before and rolled swiftly away before he
could manage a repeat.

"Ah, you are awake."

"Is it really morning?"

"It was really morning when we actually went to sleep.
Now it is really, really morning, and we have to get moving."

"Yes," she said. But she rolled again, closing her
eyes. A big mistake. That less than gentle pat upon the rear came upon her,
resounding in the quiet of the morning.

"Must you do that?" she demanded irately, springing
up, clutching the pillow to her chest.

"Well, it does work."

"Well, I imagine one day it will work equally as well on
you."

"I'm not terribly afraid of such a consequence, since it
seems I'm the earlier riser. And I want to start on the way. Sloan and Willow
will be anxious if we don't catch up with them soon."

"Now, why would they be worried when they might surely
realize you spent a night in civilization?"

Something changed within his eyes. They glittered with a hard
light once again when they had actually gazed at her with something akin to
gentle amusement if not tenderness. In the pink filtering early morning light,
his hair was very sleek and very black, his stance hard, his features chiseled.
He appeared very much the Sioux, and one ready to do battle at the moment.

"We are leaving civilization now," he said, his
tone harsh. He came to her, his fingers threading through her hair. "At
long last, into the heart of enemy territory!"

"Are these people your enemies?"

"They are yours, aren't they?"

She lifted her chin, staring at him. ' 'Do you immediately
think the worst of every full-blooded white? Or is it just me?" she
demanded.

He smiled slightly, as if he might almost appreciate the
humor of his words.

"Things will change," he assured her. "They
will change. I don't know where you've come from, other than that my father
found you in Baltimore." He plucked up one of her hands. "But you've
never known much hardship."

"Do you think the only hardship is to be found in the
wilderness?" she demanded heatedly.

He arched a brow at her. "Want to tell me about
it?"

"I can live with your hardships," she informed him
coolly.

"Ah. Well, then, though I greatly appreciate your
present lack of apparel, I'm afraid I must suggest that you put clothing on.
I'll be in the dining room—I admit to liking morning coffee served to me with
cream and breakfast. If you make it down soon enough, I'll even let you have
breakfast as well."

"You are truly the finest of husbands."

"Take it while you can," he warned her. "Trust
me, in Sioux country, things will change."

"Is that a threat?"

"Absolutely."

He left the room. Skylar was capable of being very quick—and
she knew him well enough to take his threats to heart. The road might well be
full of hardships, and she was certain she was as prepared for them as she
boasted.

In fifteen minutes, she was downstairs with him in perfect
repair, even her hair combed and simply tied back at her nape by a scarf. She
thought that he might offer a glance of approval; he offered her eggs if she
could finish them in another fifteen minutes. She gave him a smile in return,
ordered eggs, bacon, ham, biscuits, and grits. She managed to eat somewhat
daintily—and finish the entire plate within the time he had allotted her.

"Let's move. I want to catch up with Willow and Sloan
before nightfall."

"Don't you have to go for the horses?"

"They're waiting outside."

"Our bill—"

"Is on account. May we leave?"

They
rose to leave the Miner's Well, assuring Mrs. Smith-Soames on their way out
that their accommodations had been excellent. Skylar was certain that the woman
was still talking to them when Hawk drew her outside, nearly throwing her atop
her roan.

"Come on," he said.

"Damn
you, Hawk!" she grated to him. "You're in the most terrible hurry in
the world until you decide to stop. You were rude to that poor woman—"

"I wasn't rude; I was on my way."

Dear
God, but he was different by morning. Games were over; playtime was done. She
was furious; she wanted to protest his behavior anew. Now he was like the
warrior, the stranger who had abducted her from the stagecoach. His mood and
manner were wild.

He
could hold her, and she could feel so close to him. So secure.

She could believe that he could keep all monsters at bay.

But now ...

She
didn't know him. He was different. He was a different breed.

Before
she could offer another protest, though, he gave the roan a slap on the rump
and they were suddenly racing out of the raw, tiny village of Gold Town as fast
as they had come into it.

She looked back and shivered.

Aware
that it was the last of civilization she might see for a very long time.

She was entering a savage land ...

With a savage man.

Her husband.

Fifteen

By
early afternoon, they caught up with
Willow and Sloan.

They didn't pause long for any greetings but spent the rest
of the day riding very hard.

In addition to the horses and the cattle, there was a mule in
their traveling party that carried all the equipment they needed to camp out in
the hills.

Skylar became acquainted with the stubborn creature not too
long after sunset when Hawk and Sloan agreed to stop for the night. They were
both familiar with the region, knew right where to find a beautiful, bubbling
little brook with flatlands right around it sheltered by low-dipping trees.

Skylar was amazed when at last they stopped. She had ridden
all her life and was a good rider, and she had never thought of herself as a
person lacking in stamina, but she was so sore she was afraid she'd fall when
she dismounted from Nutmeg. Thank God, for the absolute salvation of her pride,
she didn't do so. In fact, none of the men even seemed to notice her
discomfort: they were apparently so accustomed to such hard rides themselves.
"We'll see to the cattle for the night," Hawk said, looking down at
her from Tor's high back. "Perhaps you could get some coffee
started."

She nodded. He'd made the suggestion
politely enough. The brook was clearly in her view, and Willow, bless him, was
starting to make a small fire.

"The coffee pot—?" she asked.

"Oh, in the pack. On Skeffington," Hawk said,
gesturing toward the mule before moving on.

And thus she met Skeffington. As soon as she approached him,
he turned. "Stand still!" she commanded the creature. She came around
again. Skeffington moved in another half circle. "If you'd stand still,
you'd be happier. I'd get those packs off your back and you wouldn't have to
carry them anymore!"

Skeffington apparently didn't care. He moved again.

"Skeffington, we have to make coffee."

The mule lowered his head and let out a loud bray. He'd been
left untethered, and he suddenly started walking off, straight toward the
water.

"Don't you walk off on me!" Skylar said, running
after him. But Skeffington was already in the water. "Get out of
there!" Skeffington ignored her. He was drinking. She swore and removed
her shoes and hose, lifted her skirts, and went after him.

The water was icy. She stepped on little rocks. Her hem was
quickly soaked.

"I wonder what mule meat tastes like!" she muttered
fiercely.

She reached Skeffington and caught hold of his lead rope.

"Come on. You're not going to enjoy a drink or anything
else until you learn to behave!" she threatened.

She tugged on the lead rope. Skeffington bucked his back legs
and tugged in return. She redoubled her efforts.

"Hey! How's that coffee coming?"

She looked back at the left bank of the brook. Hawk was
standing there. As she turned to him, Skeffington suddenly decided to come
along. He did so with such an abrupt force that she was sent spinning forward,
falling into the icy water.

As
Skylar stumbled up, she was shivering wildly. As she found her footing, she saw
that Skeffington was standing docilely on the bank, right next to Hawk. Wolf
ran around the mule, barking excitedly, wagging his tail.

Hawk
wasn't exactly laughing—his smirk was worse.

"Come
out of there!" he told Skylar. "That water is cold."

Dripping,
well aware that the water was damned cold, she walked from the brook. She
passed by Skeffington.

"What about the coffee?" Hawk asked.

"Make
your own damned coffee!" she retorted. She made her way to Willow's fire,
hunching down before it, trying to warm her hands. A moment later Hawk was at
her side, setting the coffee pot atop the blaze, then throwing a blanket around
her shoulders.

She stood, allowing the blanket to fall.

"You
know, you're as stubborn as that mule," he told her.

"You knew I'd have trouble."

"I
know that you are an incredibly resourceful young woman," he told her. He
rose, picking up the blanket. "I have more clothes for you: you don't need
to freeze."

She
arched a brow at him. "You—brought clothes for me?"

He
shrugged. "I didn't know how well prepared you might be for this kind of
ride."

"Thank you. I can prepare on my own."

"If you insist upon freezing, freeze!"

He left
her. She heard him then with Willow and Sloan, back by the brook. She glanced
toward the roan and her blanket roll where she carried her own change of
clothes.

Not
about to undress too close to the men, Skylar led the roan about a hundred
yards down water from them. She paused there, looking around. The barest
vestiges of natural light remained, softly glowing upon the landscape. It had
to be one of the prettiest places she had ever seen. Here, where she stood, an
outcropping of rocks rose high to her left, with the brook bubbling just to the
side of it. Wild- flowers grew around the rocks and trees in profusion, their
colors a soft palette in the twilight. The night was cool but beautiful, the
air incredibly fresh. She could immediately understand why this place was so
important to the Sioux people. It did seem like a holy land, shrouded in
natural beauty.

The roan suddenly hedged back on her, much as the mule had
done, neighing, snorting restlessly.

"Not you, too!" she warned the horse. "So far,
you've been an angel. No acting up on me now."

She glanced around, a feeling of unease settling over her.
She felt as if she were being watched. No wonder the poor horse had been so
skittish. "It's nothing, nothing at all." She lowered her voice.
"Just another trick being played upon me, probably."

She sensed movement behind her, as if the rocks were coming
alive. She spun around, still cold and shivering, feeling the dampness of her
clothing more fully now with such a keen sense of discomfort stealing into her
as well.

She wasn't alone.

Four braves had slipped down in silence and now stood on the
ground, creating a semicircle around her. Despite the coolness of the night,
they were dressed in moccasins, leggings, breechclouts, and paint. Their
chests were bare, other than the designs sketched upon them in shades of
yellow, black, blue, and red.

More of Hawk's friends! she thought, her anger simmering
hotly. He didn't dislike her... hah! He didn't believe a word she had said
about never hurting his father, and even if he had sent for Sabrina, he was
still furious over discovering himself married. He meant to torment her until
the end of her days. First the stupid mule and the icy water. Now this.

Well, she wasn't going to fall for any of it anymore.

One of them, the brave in the middle with several feath- ers
plaited into his long hair, raised a knife to her, then his free hand,
indicating that she should come to him.

"Oh, no. I don't
think so!"

He frowned angrily, brandishing the knife again.

"You can stop it right now. You're not frightening me in
the least. I've done this once already."