Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558) (8 page)

Home. Every piece of her being cried out with the certainty. This man. This land. This house.

“Come.” He held out a chair in the kitchen and she settled into it.

Tingling with the excitement of being near him, she watched while he lit a lantern and gathered a basin and supplies from a drawer. Everywhere she looked she saw beauty—grape leaves carved into the chair backs, the scrollwork on the cabinetry, carvings and Indian blankets hung on the walls.

He cradled her hand with his, lifting it toward the light. “This may sting.”

“I'm brave.” That made him smile. His touch was firm but gentle. Her heart raced as he swabbed a scrap of clean cloth across her injured knuckle.

This is how it would feel to be loved by him. To know his touch on her skin.

He rolled a strip of muslin around her finger, leaning close to tug it tight. The pulse beat in the hollow of his throat fast and frantic. His chest rose quick and light.

Just like hers.

“Done. Now we can take you home.” Gone was the mask of stone and the distance. Night Hawk smiled, his entire heart showing.

The greatest joy filled her, buoyant and sweet. When he pressed his lips to her palm, she knew.

This was the man she would love for the rest of her life.

 

It was wrong. He knew it. But that didn't stop him from holding out his hand and helping Marie onto Shadow's back. He meant to settle her across the stal
lion's withers, sidesaddle style, and cradle her in his arms.

But she had other ideas. She slid into place between his thighs, riding astride, and all reason fled. Her soft backside fit into the cradle of his thighs, and she was all heaven and tempting woman.

Her silken hair brushed the sensitive skin against his throat. Her warmth touched him from thigh to chin, and desire cannoned through his entire being.

Instantly hard, he fought to control his body's raging demands. Marie stiffened, and he knew she'd felt his desire for her.

Shame engulfed him. She was a maiden. To react to her like this showed her great disrespect. What on earth would he say to explain? That his steely will melted like ice in the sun when she was near?

“It's a lovely evening, isn't it?” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. A mysterious smile touched her lips.

Night Hawk strangled on a groan and sent Shadow streaking across the darkening meadows. The horse's gait rocked Marie intimately against him, mimicking an even greater act. Need hammered through him as his hands curved around Marie's hips, settling at her slim waist.

She didn't protest; she pressed boldly against him.

They were like a tree and the wind, moving together, one caressing the other, in a rhythm as old as time. Every rolling step Shadow took brought them closer as dusk gave way to night. Stars glittered on the eastern edge of the world where darkness gathered and lit their way.

He didn't dare breathe for fear of shattering the mo
ment. Of waking up to find this was only a dream. That he would awaken to find her fading like mist from his arms when he wanted to hold her forever.

Too soon, the fort loomed shadowy and ominous in the clearing ahead. The settlement was quiet, and they were alone as he guided Shadow down the lane toward the closed gates.

With regret, he slid from the stallion's back. His feet touched the earth, ending the dream.

Even in the darkness, he could see her face, the hint of a smile as she leaned into his hands. He caught her arms and cherished the feel of her one last time as he lifted her safely to the ground.

“I'd like to come in the morning and check on our hawk.”

“I'll send Meka to meet you.”

“You could meet me.” She lifted her chin, breathless with her own brazenness.

His knuckles brushed her cheek. “I will.”

She craved a deeper, bolder touch. Her entire being felt aflame, and she longed for the feel of his arms again. For the hard wonder of his chest against her back and the powerful thighs cradling hers. For the thrust of that part of him that now strained at his trousers.

She'd done that. It seemed impossible that this noble and exceptional man wanted her.

“Your father will be angry.”

“Probably.”

Night Hawk's gaze dropped to her lips. Even in the dark, she could see his pupils dilate.

She wanted his kiss more than anything. And no polite demure kiss, either. She wanted one intimate
and tender, deep and passionate. The kind lovers shared.

As if he read her thoughts, Night Hawk bent closer.
Yes.
She tilted her chin to meet his kiss. Her lips tingled with anticipation and a bright joy gathered deep in her heart.

His mouth hovered above her own and lingered. All Marie could hear was the pulse of her heart and the moan in her throat when, instead, he leaned his forehead to hers.

“I'll stay until you're safely within the gates.” His breath mingled with hers and the intimacy lashed through her.

Tomorrow, she vowed. She would kiss him tomorrow. The beautiful light of this love she felt for him blazed bright enough to blind her. She would not be ashamed of her feelings or of the honest passion that thrummed through her veins.

“Good night, Marie.” He spoke and his words rumbled through her. He stepped away, and her skin burned with his heat.

She watched while he hopped onto his stallion's back. It took all her self-control to turn and knock at the closed gates. In the seconds it took for the soldier to call out, Night Hawk stood guard, a part of the night, mysterious and magnificent and—she hoped—her one true love.

Then the gate swung open. She returned to her world. Leaving Night Hawk to return to his.

N
ight Hawk watched as dawn came in gentle awakenings. Of light. Of life. Of color. The light frost on the grasses shimmered like diamonds as the new sun peered above the horizon with an eye-stinging brilliance.

He'd been up all night tending the hawk but his thoughts kept drifting to Marie. He was torn apart over how he'd treated her. He'd been weak last night. Weak and needy and playing with fire.

Nothing good could come from wanting to make love to the colonel's daughter. He could be honest with himself—he hadn't only wanted to kiss her last night. He'd wanted to lay her down in the shelter of the trees and love her as he'd done in his dreams.

Was he that weak? Lacked that much self-control? Angry with himself, angry at this life he'd chosen and his unbearable loneliness, he took off for the stables.

Fury fueled his harsh step as he threw open the door and returned to the main aisle. Horses nickered their greetings, and the cow in the end stall mooed a melancholy good morning.

New light filtered through the cracks between the logs and illuminated the makeshift nest along the back wall. The hawk lay motionless in a basin filled with soft hay. The creature remained balled up, head hidden beneath its healthy wing, stiff and cold.

Sadness battered Night Hawk as he rubbed one finger along the bird's wing. The hawk shivered once, barely alive.

Marie would be here soon. She wanted to check on the bird. And later, they would talk together. And he would have to fight to keep from kissing her again.

How was he going to resist her after last night? How was he going to restrain his desire for her when it was already out of control?

 

Was it too early to meet Night Hawk? Marie swept down the staircase, anticipation like a drug in her veins. The house echoed around her as she hurried through the dining room and into the parlor. Henry's footsteps tapped on the ceiling overhead.

Good. He wasn't down yet. She wasn't avoiding him, but she certainly wasn't up to explaining. He hadn't been home when she'd returned last night—he was probably at his office—but Marie had no doubt he'd been unhappy she'd gone off on her own to go berry picking.

Henry would simply have to get used to it.

Tying her cloak's sash, she faced the morning. The sun sparkled on the frosty ground, and the grass crunched beneath her boots.

The guards at the gates tipped their hats to her in a respectful hello. As soon as she stepped beyond the
stout fort walls, she lifted her skirts and hurried across the frozen puddles in the road toward the awaiting forest.

Night Hawk stepped from the shadows just as he'd promised. He stood tall and regal like a knight of old. Her very own knight.

Her very own love.

 

“I can't believe he's alive.” Marie bent close and the wisps that had escaped from her elegant knot brushed his jaw. “You saved him.”

So much respect filled those words. Night Hawk felt shamed. His need for her raged, and there was no use denying it. Still, though he wanted her, he wouldn't give in to his feelings.

He cleared his throat and vowed to ignore the tantalizing brush of her dark locks against his sensitized skin. “I only tended his wound. He owes his life to the lady who found him.”

“No, you knew how to tend him.”

Night Hawk lifted the strip of cloth from the basin. Fat water droplets trailed down the muslin and dripped onto the hawk's beak. The creature tilted his head enough to catch the drops, too weak to do more than swallow.

“This is a good sign.” He held the cloth patiently.
Concentrate on the bird and not on the woman,
he advised himself.

But she sidled closer, seemingly fascinated by his care of the bird. “Can I try it?”

Her shoulder brushed his arm.

He gritted his teeth. “Just move slowly.”

Their fingers touched. Longing pummeled him. She took the muslin from him and reached across his chest to dunk the strip in the basin. Water splashed as she worked, but Night Hawk could hardly hear it through the roaring of the pulse in his ears.

The outside curve of her breast was like hot silk against his arm. Beneath those layers of wool and cotton, he knew her skin would be creamy silk. Her breasts would be firm and rosy tipped.

His throat constricted and he moved away.

“Look, he won't drink from me. You'd better do it.”

A prudent man would walk away from this closeness. Night Hawk could think of a thousand reasons to head out the door and put as much distance as possible between them. And only one reason to stay.

Hating his own weakness, he took the cloth from her fingers. She remained at his side, smelling of meadow flowers and summer. The hawk tipped toward the water droplets rolling off the muslin strip.

“He's a blue hawk,” he heard himself say as if from a great distance. “See the dark blue feathers on his wings?”

“He's nearly the color of the sky on his stomach.”

“He's smaller than most of the hawks in these parts.” He dowsed the strip, and the bird cried in protest. “I guess he's feeling well enough to complain.”

Marie's hand splayed across his shirt, closing the scant distance between them. “You stayed up with him last night. I can see the exhaustion on your face.”

“I wanted him to live.”

“You are the most amazing man.” She breathed the
words, as if she were looking at a night sky full of stars for the first time.

And he was deeply embarrassed by his ignoble thoughts. “You don't know me, Marie. The kind of man I am.”

“I know what I see.” She leaned closer. “I know what I feel.”

Every instinct within him shouted for escape. If he wanted to save his heart and his dignity, he would leave now.

Her fingers curled into his cotton shirt. She rose on tiptoe and her mouth softened. Her lush pink lips parted.

He claimed her with a hard kiss. There was no holding back. No politeness. Only the raging raw-edged passion that drove him. She met him willingly, her tentative kiss changing from untried to ardent. Her lips were heated silk, her tongue damp satin.

Her firm breasts pressed against his chest, and he was rock hard against the soft curve of her stomach. Layers of cotton and wool separated them, but he could fix that. A few tugs at the buttons marching down her bodice and they could be skin to skin, man to woman, lover to lover.

A groan was torn from his throat. Agony filled him, greater than any pain he'd known before. She moved against him, an inexperienced maiden who didn't realize the consequences of this kiss. Or what he wanted from her.

He twisted away, breathing hard. “I shouldn't have done that. You deserve my respect, not this.”

“You are the man I want.” Her steps whispered
after him. Her hand splayed against his jaw, possessive and loving.

She kissed him this time, a tender brush of her lips to his. Her sweetness tormented him more than her fire. Every fiber of his being shouted for completion.

“You don't want me, Marie.” He broke the kiss and, because he was powerless to move away, rubbed the pad of his thumb across her lush lips. “I'm wrong for you. Ask your father. He'll agree with me.”

“I don't need to ask Papa anything. I'm old enough to know my heart.” She laved the curve of his thumb with the tip of her tongue. “I want you. Only you.”

“It can never be.” He'd fight any foe, right all wrongs, fight for the rest of his life to make it different. If he could. “You deserve more than I could ever give you.”

“You have more to give me than any army major.” She leaned her cheek against his chest. “The only question is, do you want me?”

“Yes.” He choked on the word. The one that dishonored him, destroyed his integrity. The one that would make her think they had a future together.

“Then we have everything we need.” She smiled up at him, and he swore he could see forever in her eyes.

Their forever—hers and his bound together as man and wife.

If only it could be.

 

“I hurried back as soon as I could. I thought of nothing else all day,” Marie confessed as she watched
Night Hawk offer the small chunk of smoked trout to the wounded hawk.

“Lucky bird.”

“I wasn't only thinking of him.” The memory of their kiss flared between them.

Desire engulfed her, hotter than any flame.
He wanted her, too.
The realization encouraged her, made her want and wish. It took every bit of her self-control not to lean across the makeshift nest and brush her lips across his.

“He's eating a little, but not much.” Night Hawk set aside the remaining piece of trout. “Maybe he'll feed on his own later.”

“Does this mean he'll live for sure?”

“It's a good sign.” Night Hawk sounded more encouraged, but he walked away, chin bowed, a man of strength and silences.

The injured bird settled down to sleep, cozy in his nest. Alive because of this man.

All day long, she'd thought of little else but his kiss. Of how right it felt in his arms. Her body melted every time she thought of Night Hawk's hands touching her.

How she wanted him to touch her.

She followed him into the yard, where sunshine and wind rustled the changing leaves of the trees. Oranges, golds and reds clung to their boughs, reluctant to fall. Only a few skidded along the ground in a rustling dance.

The season was changing. Time was passing. All her life she'd waited for the right man to love. The one she could make a real home with. The husband she would make children with.

He looked so alone as he stroked his hand down Kammeo's neck. How long had he been isolated from his clan and his culture? Keeping himself apart from the growing settlement?

She ached for him. Trembling with her boldness, she joined him at Kammeo's side. “I never thanked you for her. I would have paid you.”

“That's the problem.” His chiseled features turned to stone. “I could never accept money from you.”

“Because I'm a woman.”

“Because you're
the
woman.” He turned, and she could see all he'd been struggling with shadowed in his dark eyes. All he wanted. All he feared.

“I want to learn to ride her.” Marie pressed a kiss to his lips, a quick one, shy when she wanted to be brazen. “I want you to teach me.”

His eyes turned black. Tendons strained in his neck. One bronzed hand curled around her nape, and a thrill washed through her. Their mouths met in a clash of desire and tenderness, each battling, each winning.

When he pulled away, they were both breathless.

He knelt before her and held one hand low. “I'll give you a foot up.”

She set her shoe on the flat of his palm and curled her fingers through Kammeo's flaming mane. Suddenly she was airborne. Night Hawk's strength guided her to the mare's withers. She swung her leg over the horse's broad back and laughed when her skirts hiked up to expose her crinolines.

“Don't tell me you walked her all the way here.” Night Hawk handed Marie the reins.

“I don't know how to ride. That's why I asked you
to teach me but you had better ideas after listening to my father.”

Night Hawk cupped the side of her face in his strong, tender hand. “You should listen to your father.”

“This time he's wrong.” She pressed a kiss to Night Hawk's palm, and her whole body burned. “Are you going to teach me from the ground?”

“That was my plan.”

“I prefer a more active teaching method.” He moaned when she kissed him again. “I'll learn better that way.”

“I wouldn't want you to fail.”

“Exactly. I want to get this right.” Marie wasn't certain that she was speaking about learning to ride.

Night Hawk mounted behind her and pulled her into the cradle of his thighs. Marie burned and hardly noticed when the young mare pranced, uncertain about the weight of two riders.

Night Hawk soothed Kammeo with low, gentle words.

“Trust.” He spoke in Marie's ear, a fanning heat on her skin. “It's what a rider and horse need most of all. The horse to trust you won't lead her into harm. And you to trust what she has to say.”

“You talk to horses, too?”

“Something like that.” Night Hawk's hands settled at her waist, holding her against him. “Knot the reins and lay them down.”

Her muscles tightened. Her entire body felt sizzling and expectant, as if waiting for something marvelous to happen. She couldn't seem to make her fingers obey
the simplest command. She dropped one rein and had to lean forward to retrieve it.

When she leaned back, Night Hawk was there, his chest like stone, his thighs cradling hers, the hard ridge of his arousal seductive. She leaned into his hardness, into that rigid part of him.

His arms came around her, drawing her closer. Nothing but their clothes separated them. Not distance. Not differences. His chin brushed the top of her head.

“Tighten your knees just a little.” His voice vibrated through her chest, as if she'd spoken the words. “Now lean forward.”

Incredibly, Kammeo understood and began walking.

“She's bridle trained, so lay one hand on the knot of the reins.” His words ruffled her hair and every breath he took seemed like her own.

“Like this?”

He answered by kissing her temple, where she knew he could feel the crazy beat of her heart. Feel how much she wanted him.

“Just a small pressure of the rein to her neck.” His hand caught hers to show her. “And a slight squeeze of your knee.” His thigh pressed hers.

Kammeo circled easily toward the sparkling lake and green-gold leaves.

“I can't believe it.” How could life get any better? The mare felt alive and wondrous beneath her. And Night Hawk's intimate embrace made her melt with a strange need.

They rode down the trail where sunlight played on the water and the cool breeze teased the last of the meadow's wildflowers. With every breath Marie took,
she felt more alive. More certain. Desire pulsed thick and heavy through her veins.