Native Hawk (California Legends Book 3)

by Glynnis Campbell

  Love was all-powerful, she realized. And time was precious. In the blink of an eye, life could be snatched away.

  Claire was probably going to live. She and Chase would wed, make a home, fill it with children.

  But what if it hadn’t gone that way?

  She bit her lip, watching as a rogue tear dropped from Chase’s cheek onto Claire’s hand.

  Chase was right. She had to seize the day.

  Chapter 28

  By the time Catalina and the madam returned to The Parlor, Miss Hattie was flushed and out of breath.

  “Honestly, Cat.” Miss Hattie huffed and puffed as she staggered through the front door. “I don’t know why…you’re in such a…an all-fired hurry.”

  “I must iron the clothings while they are hot,” she explained. She wasn’t sure that was quite how Chase had said it, but it made sense to her.

  While Miss Hattie puzzled over her words, she picked up her skirts and swept past the madam, up the stairs.

  Drew wasn’t asleep. When she walked in, she could see worry etched into his brow.

  He sat up. “How are they?”

  “Good. They are good.” She set her purse on the nightstand and started unbuttoning her jacket.

  “What did Chase say?”

  “He said your grandmother’s spirit was there.” She wrenched off her jacket with unaccustomed haste, dropping it on the stool.

  “That’s good. That’s good.” Drew seemed distracted as he thought things over. “Yoema was a great healer. If Chase can feel her there…”

  Catalina sat on the edge of the bed and began unlacing her boots. One of the laces tangled and knotted. With a quiet curse, she wrenched the boot off her foot, breaking the lace.

  “You all right?” Drew asked.

  “Yes, fine.” She was very fine. She felt finer than she’d felt in a long time. She knew she was doing the right thing.

  He moved over in the bed to make room for her. “Was Claire awake? Did you get to talk to her?”

  Catalina kicked off her second boot, tugged off her stockings, and then stood to untie her skirt. “No. She was asleep.”

  “Prob’ly tuckered out. She’s had a rough couple o’ weeks.”

  She pulled off her skirt and flung it aside. Then she started on her bustle.

  Drew frowned at her rumpled clothing. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

  “No. Something is very right.”

  Normally she folded her clothes neatly, careful of each crease. But for some reason, that didn’t seem important right now. She tossed her bustle over her shoulder. Then she started on her corset.

  Drew was still reflecting on what had happened. “If her fiancé was responsible, I hope they do hang him—the sooner, the better. Any man who’d do that kind o’ thing…”

  “Per amor di cielo!” Catalina cursed. She’d never noticed before how many laces there were on a corset. It was ridiculous. At this rate, it would take her half the night to get undressed.

  “You need some help with that?” Drew asked.

  “Please.”

  She sat beside him, and he went to work on the laces. She wanted to believe he was so adept at it because of his nimble card-dealing fingers. But she was afraid it was because he’d had a lot of practice with corsets. He managed to finish the task in less than a minute.

  As she freed herself from the contraption, Drew looked thoughtfully down at his hands in his lap. “If anythin’ like that ever happened to you, Cat, I just don’t know what I’d do.”

  A lump wedged in her throat as she warped the corset between her hands. “That is why we must…” She paused. She didn’t want to say it wrong. “In Italy we have a saying—carpe diem. It means ‘seize the day.’ It is to say we must not waste a moment.” She set the corset aside. “Life is…uncertain. It is a candle that can be blown out so quickly. None of us can know how much time we have left.”

  Drew was staring at her. His eyes softened as his gaze traced the contours of her camisole and drawers. “What are you tryin’ to say, Cat?”

  She took a steadying breath as she pulled loose the bow at the top of her camisole. “I think you know.”

  One part of Drew’s body knew for certain exactly what she meant. It began to harden and throb with longing.

  “Are you sure?” he managed to croak as the straps of her camisole dipped low on her shoulders.

  “Yes.”

  His heart leaped.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. He was gunshot, and his muscles weren’t acting the way they should. But somehow he’d make it good for Cat.

  “Let me do that,” he whispered.

  He beckoned her close, slipping the camisole down to reveal her breasts. Threading his fingers through her hair, he brought her mouth to his and kissed her with sweet patience.

  She sighed softly against his cheek.

  His hand drifted down until the backs of his knuckles grazed her nipple. At her quick intake of breath, he cupped her breast, weighing it in his palm.

  He grasped the back of her head then and moved his mouth away to murmur against her ear.

  “You’re sure?” he asked her again.

  She nodded.

  He moved his hand to her other breast and lifted it. Then he lowered his head and gave her warm flesh a tender kiss.

  She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying his attentions. He bathed her thoroughly, caressing and licking and suckling at her breasts until she clawed eager fingers into his shoulders.

  He moved up then to nuzzle her neck. She gasped and shivered as he nibbled at the sensitive place beneath her ear. He took her lobe lightly between his teeth. When he ran his tongue around the delicate crevices of her ear, she squealed deep in her throat and squeezed at his shoulders.

  His body reacted with bold fervency. He freed one hand to untie his drawers and lifted his hips enough to drag them out from under his buttocks.

  When she unexpectedly seized him in her palm, he groaned. Then he chuckled. “Slow down, Cat. We got all night.”

  “I do not want to take all night.”

  He grinned. Neither did he. But that wasn’t the right way to treat a lady—especially not her first time. So he gently disengaged from her.

  “Why don’t you lie back?” he said. “Let me look at you.”

  She pulled the camisole over her head and hauled off her drawers, dropping them on the floor. Then she stretched out on top of the covers, awaiting his pleasure.

  For a moment, he only caressed her with his eyes. How breathtaking she was—this woman who was going to be his wife. Her skin was smooth and tawny, and her curls were soft and black. Her voluptuous breasts narrowed into a trim waist, flaring again into hips that seemed to undulate as she gazed up at him with longing.

  Resting on one elbow, he let his free hand explore her. He stroked her lovely curves. He coiled his fingers in her silky locks. He brushed her blushing cheek with his thumb and then pressed a kiss to the adorable dot beside her lips.

  She opened her mouth, inviting his kiss. He willingly accepted, dancing lightly across her lips at first, then delving deeply with his tongue, tasting the honey of her desire.

  She seized the back of his neck and arched eagerly against him. He sucked in a quick breath as her ribs grazed his bandaged wound.

  When her eyes flew open and she tried to apologize, he hushed her.

  “It’s all right, darlin’. I’ll be careful for both of us, all right?”

  He hoped he could be careful. He had a feeling that once things got going, someone could stick a white-hot poker in his wound, and he wouldn’t feel it. But he needed to be careful for Catalina’s sake. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her.

  The last thing Catalina wanted to do was to hurt Drew. Perhaps it would be best if she lay quiet.

  She closed her eyes and tried to be very still. It wasn’t easy. It seemed each touch of his finger changed her skin somehow, the way the brush of a hand could change the color of velvet.

&nbs
p; She drifted in a sensual haze while he caressed her with the delicacy of a sheer lawn petticoat. When his fingers slipped slyly between her thighs, she squeezed her eyes shut, shivering at the delicious invasion.

  His breath was ragged against her ear when he whispered one last time, “You’re certain?”

  She nodded. She’d never been more sure of anything in her life. There was an aching deep within her, a craving in her body as well as her soul. She wanted to join with him, not just for physical relief, but to be intimately bound to him.

  He retrieved one of the feather pillows and tucked it under her hips, coaxing her thighs apart.

  For a moment, she felt too vulnerable, too exposed. Her face warmed as she experienced a moment of doubt and an overwhelming urge to slam her legs together again.

  But she realized she trusted Drew. He’d asked her to be his wife. He loved her. He would do nothing to harm her.

  Careful of his wound, Drew eased on top of her then, supporting his weight on one forearm as he settled his legs between hers. She felt his hard length pulsing against her.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you,” he murmured, “but it might sting, just for a bit.”

  She opened her eyes to look at him. She’d heard all about it from the ladies at The Parlor. And she could see in his dark and caring eyes that he was trying to temper his own passion for the sake of her comfort. That moved her beyond words. No pain could diminish her joy at becoming one with him.

  “I understand,” she whispered.

  He aroused her then with deft fingers until she was desperate and sobbing with need. By the time he entered her, the pinch of pain was no more than the brief poke of a sewing needle.

  As he hovered over her with a soft apology, she relaxed under him. Already the sting was subsiding, and a compelling urgency was taking its place.

  He moved within slowly, still guarding his injury, and she moaned at the strange fullness inside her. His leisurely, languorous motions incited her to greater heights. Soon, despite her intentions to lie quiet, she was responding to his movement, twisting and arching to match him, thrust for thrust.

  His growls of passion fueled her own, sending her spiraling upward. She clenched her fists in the bedclothes and rocked her head across the pillow. It felt like she was dancing in a full and beautiful dress of shimmering silk. As they spun together, faster and faster, it was as if the folds of cloth compressed, hugging her tightly, so tightly she couldn’t breathe. And then, as if he’d suddenly set her free with a great cry, she swirled away in an exuberant explosion of skirts, twirling and twirling until the music stopped and she slowed to a gentle turn.

  He covered her face with breathless kisses until she was laughing with relief and amusement. Then, though she made a mew of protest, he cautiously withdrew, collapsing on his back with a pleased grin on his face.

  She couldn’t help but smile back.

  Then he furrowed his brow in concern. “I didn’t hurt you too badly?”

  She shook her head, deciding, “Making the sex? I think this is even better than eating tartufi.”

  He arched a sarcastic brow at her. “Better than chewin’ on a soft brown lump that pigs dig up from under the ground? I’m flattered.”

  She gave him a playful shove.

  They clasped hands, and as they lounged on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, Catalina thought she’d never been happier.

  “I am glad we seized the day,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “I would like to seize every day.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think you can afford it.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “The way I figure, you owe me twenty dollars for makin’ the sex with you.”

  “What?” She swatted his shoulder. She could see by the sparkle in his eyes that he was teasing her.

  “I hear that’s the goin’ rate,” he said.

  “If I had twenty dollars a day, I would definitely spend it on you, Mr. Drew Hawk.”

  He took a deep breath full of pride and satisfaction. “And I’d gladly do your biddin’, Mrs. Catalina Hawk.”

  Catalina Hawk. She grinned. It was such a short name. But she liked the sound of it. She closed her eyes, repeating it over and over in her mind.

  It was only after Drew’s hand went limp in hers and he began drawing in the deep breath of sleep that Catalina realized there might be a consequence to their lovemaking.

  They might have made a baby.

  She bit her lip. The idea of having Drew’s baby thrilled her. Yet it was too soon. She hadn’t even gotten her dress design business started.

  And she had wedding gowns to make—for herself and the ladies of The Parlor. After all, they couldn’t possibly go to Catalina’s wedding in their scanty saloon dresses.

  It surprised her that she wanted them to come. But they were her friends. It didn’t matter that they were fallen women. Besides, she supposed she was fallen now too.

  She drifted off, wondering how she could possibly get a dozen gowns made before she started growing round with child.

  Chapter 29

  Cat must have let him sleep in. When Drew woke to the rough knock on the door, followed by his brother forcing his way in, Cat was no longer beside him in the bed, and the sun was already streaming in through the curtains.

  He supposed he should be glad. He didn’t particularly want Chase running his greedy eyes all over his beautiful bride-to-be in her altogether.

  Still, he was groggy and mildly irritated, until he saw his brother’s grim face and remembered the fire.

  “Claire?” he asked in concern.

  “Better,” Chase said, closing the door behind him.

  “They hang the varmint that did it?”

  “Yep.” Chase rubbed his hand across his chin. “But I think we’ve got more trouble.”

  That got his attention. “What kind o’ trouble?”

  “After the hanging, Sheriff Campbell stopped by the ranch. He said he wanted to see how Claire was and to let me know I was off the hook.”

  “That’s good.”

  Chase grimaced. “Not quite. He also said something about losing his girl and how he wanted the chance to win her back.” He tossed up his hands at that. “Damn it, Drew! What kind of stakes are you playing for these days?”

  “Aww, hell,” Drew said. “He didn’t wager his sweetheart. He only lost his girl ’cause she didn’t like him gamblin’.” He added with a sniff, “Mostly she didn’t like him losin’.”

  Chase grunted. “Well, anyway, he thought I was you.”

  “So what’d you tell him?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t get the chance.”

  Drew shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “That’s just the thing,” Chase told him. “It’s too late. When the sheriff started jawing about poker, Mr. Parker said, ‘You’ll have to play his brother then, because this man isn’t the gambler.’”

  “Shit. How’d he find out?”

  Chase looked disappointed. “Claire might have told him. Anyway, it won’t be long before the whole town knows we’re twins. I just thought, you know, you might want to make a quick getaway.”

  Drew scowled. Why should he have to be the one to leave Paradise? Why couldn’t his brother take his bride and move out of town? It was on the tip of his tongue to say so.

  But then he reconsidered.

  “Wait.” Drew rubbed at the crease between his brows. “The sheriff doesn’t hold you responsible any more for what happened to Claire, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And her father’s grateful to you for savin’ her life?”

  “Yep.”

  “And nobody cares that you busted out o’ jail?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what does it matter if they know we’re twins?”

  Chase let out a resigned sigh. “Well, I figure you must have gotten into trouble with the law for something.” He straightened with noble purpose. “So since you made the sacr
ifice for me, I’m offering to cover for you.”

  Drew was simultaneously honored and annoyed. “You know, I’m not always gettin’ into trouble.”

  Chase raised a brow at that.

  “I’ve done nothin’ wrong,” Drew insisted.

  “You’re telling me you’re holed up in a cathouse, gambling with lawmen, and you’re not in trouble?”

  Drew smirked. “That’s right.”

  “Huh.”

  Whether Chase believed him or not remained to be seen. But now that he’d delivered his message, Chase figured his duty was done. With a nod of his head, he said goodbye and turned tail to get back to his ladylove.

  The news was actually a relief to Drew, now that he thought about it. White folks didn’t have the same superstitions as natives about twins, so he didn’t have to worry about people thinking the brothers were bad luck. And if all was forgiven—hell, his kidnapping brother had turned himself into a local hero—then both of them could walk freely through town.

  He thought again about the beautiful woman who had shared her body with him last night, the woman who would shortly become his wife. Now the clock was ticking. If they were going to start enjoying each other’s company on a regular basis, Cat could very well get pregnant.

  They had to get married sooner rather than later.

  And since Cat was so set on making her own dresses for the wedding, he had to find a way to get her that sewing machine she wanted. But how?

  He could raise the stakes in poker. But he’d almost bled the town dry. And he didn’t dare win another cent off of the sheriff.

  What did he have that was worth selling?

  All of a sudden, it dawned on him. He could sell his Colt forty-five. Sure, he’d had that gun by his side for seven years, and there was nothing like a pistol to keep a poker game honest. But if Drew was going to stay put in Paradise, he wouldn’t be gambling much anymore. He’d have to find himself a proper job. So he might as well sell the piece and order that sewing machine for Cat.