Captive Bride (60 page)

 
That question was already beginning to haunt Hawk. Dammit, he should have insisted that Arakashe tie her down to ensure she stayed put or explain the plans they had made the last night of rendezvous. Confound it, he should have known better than to think Rozalyn would sit idly by when a disaster was in the offing. She had never been the type of woman who waited to be rescued.

 
Growling at this unexpected turn of events, Hawk wheeled his steed around and charged back in the direction from which he had come. If Rozalyn didn't appear at the river, he must gather his men and begin a frantic search for her. As the minutes ticked by, Hawk became more apprehensive about Rozalyn's welfare. She was probably unarmed and some catastrophe might have befallen her. Blast it, why hadn't Arakashe tied her to a tree?

 
When Hawk finally reached the men congregated on the shore, he hastily ordered them to search the woods for Rozalyn. The trappers scattered in all directions, leaving Arakashe and his warriors to stand guard over the floating caravan in midstream.

 
A sickening dread flooded over Hawk while he searched the woods, calling Rozalyn's name. Had he plotted and schemed to find a way to keep her with him without inciting a war, only to have her meet with disaster? Now that he had found a way for them to make a future together, he didn't want to lose her to a grizzly or a hostile Indian tribe. Dammit, was he not to enjoy any happiness?

 
Muttering at his lack of good fortune, Hawk fought his way through the thick underbrush. He swore if he was lucky enough to find Rozalyn alive and well, he would never let that unpredictable woman out of his sight again. She attracted trouble. No matter where she was or what she was doing, catastrophe was only a step behind her. Why hadn't he fallen in love with some shy, retiring Indian maiden who would be eternally at his beck and call, instead of a minx who would single-handedly fight off a party of Crow to rescue her father from calamity?

 
That thought forced Hawk to quicken his pace. If he couldn't find Rozalyn alive he wouldn't care what happened to Aubrey DuBois. It was only because of Rozalyn that Hawk had hoped to make the furrier believe he owed a Baudelair his life.

 
Suddenly, Hawk began to realize just how difficult life had been for both Aubrey and Bear-Claw. No wonder Aubrey had become so bitter. And no wonder his father had avoided contact with civilization. Each man had lost his life force when Bitshipe died, and each man had reacted to the tragedy in the only way he could. Bear-Claw had mourned his loss and had punished himself with self-imposed isolation. Aubrey had developed an armor of bitterness to survive. How would I respond if I lost Rozalyn? Hawk asked himself. It was one thing to be without her when he knew she was alive and well and living in St. Louis, but it would be an entirely different matter to know he would never see her again, to know that death, not distance, separated them.

 
Hawk gritted his teeth and blazed a path through the thicket. I will find Rozalyn, he assured himself. And God have mercy on the man or beast that dares to harm her, for I will not.

Chapter 31

 
A doleful groan bubbled from Rozalyn's lips as she raised her head. It took a moment for her mind to clear, but when she attempted to move she found herself staked to the ground.

 
What happened? she thought groggily. The last thing she remembered was stealing off from the camp while Arakashe slept. She had been riding through the trees in an attempt to return to the river to rescue her father when . . .

 
Rozalyn moaned when she laid her head back on the ground for there was a tender knot on the back of it. Had someone leaped from the shadows to knock her senseless? Confound it, she couldn't remember anything except charging through the forest on her paint pony. Yet, here she was in the middle of nowhere, staked in the grass, a gag in her mouth.

 
With a quick intake of breath, Rozalyn glanced up to see the renegade Blackfoot who had once terrorized the wilderness with the ruthless hunter, Half-Head. Panic flashed through her eyes before she was able to get a grip on herself.

 
A wicked grin curled the Blackfoot brave's lips as he stalked toward his captive and sank down beside her.

"We meet again, white woman." He chuckled devilishly. "While DuBois fights for his life against the Crow, his daughter will remain my captive."

 
When the bare-chested warrior laid his hand upon Rozalyn's breast, she flinched and drew herself as far away as the restraining ropes would allow.

 
"Soon I will learn why so many men fight for you," he assured her in broken English. "Once I have had you, I will sell you to the victors, to the Crow or to the Longknives. They will pay handsomely for your safe return, and I will profit from the goods they will offer for you."

 
Rozalyn glared at the muscularly built brave who waited, like a circling vulture, to play the situation to his advantage. The warrior counted on the fact that the victor of the feud, Arakashe or Aubrey, would pay dearly to see her returned. But Rozalyn wondered if Arakashe would consider her worthy of ransom after she had fled from the camp to save her father. If the Crow chief had become vindictive perhaps he would consider it fitting for Rozalyn to be abused by this renegade Blackfoot who roamed the wilderness, preying upon the misfortune of others.

 
Since she had been unable to reach the river, what chance would her father have? He would drown and Arakashe would probably turn his back on her because she had betrayed his trust.

 
Her musing ceased when the brave crouched above her, his wicked intention stamped on his bronzed features. The thought of what was about to happen nauseated Rozalyn. She had faced the threat of rape at the hands of two drunken trappers at the fort, and she had never forgotten her feeling of helplessness. She detested such abuse, and she itched to claw out the Blackfoot brave's eyes, to spit in his face. But she was bound and gagged and there was nothing she could do but endure his disgusting touch.

 
Rozalyn swallowed hard when he whisked his knife from its sheath and then severed the laces on the front of her doeskin dress, baring her breasts to his devouring gaze. Then she screamed and writhed when his callused hand made rough contact with her flesh. Although aware that her muffled cry served no purpose ... or so she thought.

 
Like a panther screaming in the night, Hawk issued a warning cry and then pounced. The Blackfoot brave vaulted to his feet wheeling to confront the intruder who flew at him so fiercely he was knocked off his balance before he could bury his knife in Hawk's heaving chest.

 
Helplessly, Rozalyn watched the two men strain against each other, fighting for supremacy in the forest. She wondered why Hawk hadn't used his rifle to fell his opponent instead of charging in like an angered bull. But giving the matter further consideration, she realized the click of the rifle would have alerted the brave to an intruder's approach. She would not have relished having a blade held against her neck when the warrior realized his only hope was to use her as a hostage.

 
While Rozalyn was silently analyzing Hawk's tactics, the Blackfoot brave was fighting for his life. Hawk suddenly seemed to possess the strength of two men. A snarl on his lips, he sought revenge while the brave struggled wildly, hoping to inflict a knife wound that would slow his assailant. But Hawk was enraged. The sight of another man, particularly Half-Head's accomplice, attempting to abuse Rozalyn had him breathing fire.

 
On several occasions Hawk had seen the results of what Half-Head and his Blackfoot companions had done to women. The lingering vision sickened and infuriated him. He thirsted for blood. He wanted to put an end to the maimings and murders of this renegade.

 
When the brave lashed out with his sharp-edged blade, Hawk jerked away, catching the Blackfoot's oncoming arm in midair. Then, like a mountain lion pouncing on its prey, he coiled and sprang. With a pained grunt, the warrior doubled over and fell to his knees, clasping the knife that had found its target.

 
After Hawk was certain the brave would fight no more, he spun about to survey Rozalyn. Breathing a relieved sigh when he noted her condition, he strode over to cut her loose.

 
The moment her arms were free, they came around his neck, knocking him off balance, and Hawk chuckled when kisses rained on both his cheeks. "You wouldn't happen to be pleased to see me, would you?" he teased, as he scooped her up into his arms.

 
"Immensely," Rozalyn breathed, laying her head against his sturdy shoulder.

 
"If you had stayed put, none of this would have happened," Hawk insisted. Setting her on a mount, Hawk flung her a disapproving frown. "Fright took ten years off my life when Arakashe came charging across the river without you in tow."

 
When his remark penetrated, Rozalyn was irritated. As Hawk swung onto his steed, she said, "You planned this, didn't you? You persuaded Arakashe to attack my father's caravan and dispose of him."

 
Hawk nodded affirmatively and then hastened to explain further before Rozalyn jumped to the wrong conclusion. "I did send my grandfather to intercept the fleet of keelboats before they navigated the rapids, but it was not my intent to dispose of your father. I wanted him to think I had bargained with the Crow chief on his behalf so that when I asked for your hand in marriage he would be in no position to refuse. At the moment your father and his men are stranded in the middle of the Missouri, but their lives are not in danger, nor did I ever intend for them to be."

 
The explanation Hawk offered was meant to cool Rozalyn's temper, but he soon learned it had had the opposite effect. Instead of praising his scheme Rozalyn was glaring at him.

 
"Dammit, Hawk, this is the last straw! Why won't you ever confide in me before you traipse off into the wilderness or devise some risky scheme that might result in disaster?" Rozalyn fumed.

"There wasn't time. I only thought—"

 
"Wasn't time?" she echoed incredulously. "We have spent the better part of a year together and you couldn't find the time to reveal this fiasco you conjured up?" Sarcasm dripped from her lips. "Obviously you consider me dim-witted, and think I wouldn't have the sense to play the charade to its end."

 
"The idea didn't occur to me until the last night we were together." Hawk's voice was testy. "Did you expect me to make the arrangements and explain my intentions during the few minutes it took to ferry you across the river to meet your father?"

 
"Well, I am not marrying a man who does not have enough courtesy to explain his intentions beforehand. I could have gotten myself killed ... or worse ... all because you didn't enlighten me!" Rozalyn countered. Then she turned coldly from him.

 
"Do you expect me to forewarn you of every move I make?" Hawk snorted derisively. "Upon my word, woman, I swear you would have me tell you when I plan to jump and how high! You would have me so henpecked that, like a hawk, I would molt twice a year."

 
"You? Henpecked?" Rozalyn laughed at the ludicrous notion. "I have yet to see you follow me around like an obedient pup. Indeed, I am the one who has been led about on a leash and pawned off on one stranger and then another."

 
When her breasts heaved in indignation, threatening to spill from the plunging neckline of her buckskin dress, Hawk lost all interest in arguing. The fact was neither he nor Roz would tolerate domination. They were destined to clash, but they would always be held together by a strong bond—the compelling attraction between them. Hawk was prepared to compromise occasionally . . . and this was one of those times.

 
Pulling his steed to a halt, he flashed Rozalyn a roguish grin. Then he deliberately reached out to trail a lean finger over the soft swells of her breasts. "Very well,
cherie
, if you demand to know my every thought, I will reveal it. And as far as my immediate intentions are concerned, I plan to kiss you. Do you have any complaints?"

 
His wide, boyish grin was her undoing. Suddenly Rozalyn couldn't remember why she was raking Hawk over the coals, and the moment he touched her she melted into a pool of liquid desire. An impish smile pursed her lips, and her blue eyes sparkled.

 
"Complaints? From me?" she asked innocently. "When have I been known to complain? Surely you must have me confused with someone else,
monsieur
."

"My mistake."

"Apology accepted."

 
"Mmmmm . . . this beats the hell out of arguing," Hawk purred, leaning out to close the narrow distance that separated them.

 
While Hawk was settling down to the arousing business of kissing her senseless, Rozalyn melted into his buckskin shirt. His sensuous lips brushed lightly over hers, teasing her into response, and then his mouth opened on hers and his questing tongue parted her lips. The musky scent of him fogged her mind, transporting her back to another time and place, stirring memories of rapturous pleasure.