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

by Jillian Hart

  No sign of him. Had he vanished back into the shadowed wilderness?

  “Why wouldn’t you let me speak with him?” she demanded, frustrated.

  “I’m under strict orders to bring you straight to the colonel’s quarters,” Sergeant James said in a clipped manner as he saluted the guards at the fort’s wide gates and wouldn’t look at her.

  No, there was more to that. Was it Henry’s orders? “It’s because Night Hawk’s an Indian, isn’t it? I saw how everyone acted in the mercantile.”

  “You’re wrong. His being an Indian has got nothing to do with it.” The sergeant flushed. “He is a different sort of fellow.”

  Marie heard what the officer wasn’t saying, and it made her angry. “It is because he’s a native.”

  “Your father is more progressive than that!” The sergeant’s commanding tone vibrated with anger, as if he didn’t like being questioned by a mere woman, and it drew looks from uniformed privates mounting up in the nearby stable yard.

  “Night Hawk keeps to himself. Doesn’t seem to have much need for us. He’s a real lone wolf type, and you’d be wise to keep your distance from men like that. Your father won’t permit it.”

  So, that was the way it was. Did Henry still think of her as a little girl to be commanded and supervised, like any new enlistee? If that was true, then he was in for a surprise.

  She was a grown woman, and she could make up her own mind about a man’s character. Remembering how Night Hawk had brushed his knuckles down little Cassie’s cheek with a father’s tenderness eased the hot anger inside her.

  A thousand questions buzzed on her tongue, so many she didn’t know where to start. She was nearly out of breath trying to keep up with the fast-paced sergeant, who looked more unpleasant after their exchange.

  “Tell me, please.” She lifted her skirt and hopped over a rivulet of water from a garden’s irrigation. “Does Night Hawk live here in the settlement?”

  The sergeant’s mouth narrowed, and he walked even faster.

  Marie practically ran to keep up. “Night Hawk was injured. Does he have family to look after him?”

  The sergeant scowled at her. The intent was clear to her. He wasn’t going to tell her a thing.

  She wasn’t discouraged. Somehow, some way, she’d find the answers to her questions. Meeting Night Hawk today had left her feeling as if she’d been interrupted in the middle of a sonata, the harmony of notes fading in the air, unfinished and without end.

  As she hurried past huge log buildings and the smaller log homes of officers, she remembered the low rumble of his voice, like summer thunder, and the protective shelter of his arms.

  Maybe—just maybe—she’d see him again.

  Chapter Two

  What a wondrous night. Marie let the screen door slap shut behind her and padded across the porch. Like enchantment, the night sky glittered with the light of a billion stars. Big, white beautiful twinkles that made the heavens seem close enough to touch.

  If only Papa were here to see it with her. He hadn’t come home at all, and she’d eaten supper fixed by an unfriendly housekeeper alone in the echoing dining room.

  A series of sweet mellow bongs spilled through the open parlor window. Eleven o’clock. Late for Papa to be out on her first day here.

  She fought the harsh sting of disappointment. Her father was a busy man, that was all. She understood that. Surely a crisis had come up and detained him. That’s what it was.

  But she didn’t think so. He’d promised he’d greet her at the stage. He’d promised he would have a new horse at the stables for her. Had he broken that vow, too?

  There was only one way to find out. She took the steps two at a time and hit the dirt path with both feet, stirring up a cloud of dust.

  Overhead a hawk cried, and she tilted her head all the way back to watch it spin across the handle of the Big Dipper. Exhilaration thundered through her.

  Was it the same one she’d seen earlier today? Or its mate? The bird glided gracefully on wide wings, wild and free, commanding the night.

  This wilderness was truly an amazing place to live. What other wonders would she see? Maybe Night Hawk. The thought came unbidden like a whisper in the wind.

  It was easy to recall how he’d looked framed by the mercantile’s doorway. As dark as forest shadows, he was striking with his shoulder-length jet-black hair, bright sparkling eyes and mysterious good looks. Just imagining him made her heart leap. A strange, shivery feeling gathered in her stomach.

  Light from the stables tumbled through an open half door onto the path, as if beckoning her closer. At this late hour, no one should be inside the stables. Maybe it was her father, a part of her hoped. Was it possible he hadn’t forgotten about her mare? Eagerly she pushed open the door.

  A single flame burned in a lantern hung from one of the overhead rafters to light her way. She took two steps and froze at the sight of a huge dark horse cross-tied in the aisle, half-masked in shadows. His eyes rolled, and he tossed his head sharply. The ropes holding him snapped taut, keeping him trapped.

  “Whoa, fella,” a man’s forest-dark voice soothed. It wasn’t her father’s voice. “Easy, now. There is no danger.”

  Marie watched in amazement as a shadow rose from the darkness at the horse’s side, taking shape and substance as the light touched him.

  Night Hawk.

  He didn’t appear to see her lurking in the doorway.

  “Easy, boy.” Night Hawk stepped into the light, circling around the nervous animal that watched him defiantly. Almost viciously.

  How powerful and wild the gelding looked up close. He stomped one huge front hoof and tossed his enormous head in the air as high as the ropes would allow. His ears flattened against his head. She recognized the horse now. It was the same one that had almost hurt her and little Cassie Ingalls.

  “That’s no way to behave, boy.” Night Hawk’s words held no trace of fear.

  The warmth in his voice made the sensitive skin at Marie’s nape tingle.

  “You can be a gentleman, I know you can.” Night Hawk spoke with the hush of a lullaby and the power of a summer storm.

  The horse responded with uneasy trust. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The untamable runaway that had nearly turned killer today stood quietly for Night Hawk.

  The big man knelt and ran his hand along the gelding’s front leg, never losing touch with him. Night Hawk’s words became too low to hear, but the gelding’s head drifted down to eat from a small tin bucket on the floor.

  The scent of corn and molasses tickled Marie’s nose.

  What kind of man was Night Hawk? Saver of women and children and wild-horse tamer. How could he be real? He had to be a dream, a figment of her imagination, the fantasy of a perfect man. Yes, that was it.

  Except she was wide-awake and this was no dream. She could smell the straw and horse scent of the stable, see the flicker of light on the man’s hands as he inspected the gelding’s fetlock. And hear the beat of her own heart.

  He stood—all flesh-and-blood man—and his gaze pierced the shadows and pinpointed her. His eyes were dark like the night. “Miss Lafayette. What are you doing out of your father’s house?”

  How long had he known she was there? “I didn’t make a sound.”

  “Your skirts did.” The light flickered over him, worshiping high, sharp cheekbones, a well-proportioned nose and a hard, carved jaw.

  Marie felt a lightning bolt strike her, but there was no storm, no thunder. Her feet left the ground, she was sure of it. When she looked down, she saw the straw-strewn earth directly beneath her shoes.

  The wind gusted, snapping her skirts. The gelding trumpeted, loud and shrill and sidestepped violently, fighting his restraints.

  Night Hawk spoke, gentle soothing sounds of his native tongue while holding tight to the gelding’s halter with one hand. He stroked the horse’s gleaming coat with the other. The animal fought, and the man’s muscles corded beneath the deerskin shirt, holding him steady
.

  Night Hawk’s touch was magic, and the dangerous horse calmed.

  Unbelievable.

  “He cannot harm you. I have him cross-tied and hobbled.” Night Hawk caressed one bronzed hand down the gelding’s neck with the ease of a natural-born horseman. “Devil is not used to a woman’s skirts.”

  “Should I leave?”

  “No. I can control him. You have nothing to fear.”

  Something within Marie’s heart clicked. Just like that. As a lock finding its key at the right moment.

  Could he be the one, she wondered. The one she’d been waiting for all her life?

  Excitement flickered through her in hot, bright flames. She dared to step forward, wanting, no—needing—to be closer to him. “I saw you save the little girl’s life. How badly were you injured?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. “I will heal.”

  “I saw the blood on your shirt. In the mercantile. When you spoke to me.” She felt breathless, as if there wasn’t enough air in the building.

  “Cassie Ingalls is my friend’s daughter. I would trade my life for my friend.”

  “Or for any child.” She could feel it, the kind of man he was at heart—brave, noble and humble. A dream man who couldn’t possibly be real.

  But the real flesh-and-blood man stepped out of the shadows and into the light. “Does your father know you’re here?”

  What did she look like, a girl and not a woman grown? Heat flamed her face and it took all her self-control to modulate her words. “I’m my own woman, Mr. Night Hawk.”

  “Just Night Hawk.” He spoke deep like rolling thunder and as gentle as twilight.

  Another jolt spiraled through her.

  He cupped the stallion’s front hoof in one hand, leaned his solid shoulder against the horse’s side and lifted.

  Marie saw the rivulet of blood streaking the animal’s delicate fetlock. “He’s injured.”

  “That’s why I’m here. No one under your father’s command could get close enough to treat him.”

  “Then you work for my father?”

  “No. I came as a favor.” Night Hawk reached up to reposition the lantern and didn’t look at her.

  Bright light illuminated the angry gashes on the gelding’s neck and the man’s big, healing hands. Such gentle, masculine hands.

  Marie shivered deep inside. She couldn’t move away. “It looks to me as if you need some help.”

  “Does it?” He lifted one dark brow, measuring her. “You’re not afraid of Devil?”

  “Not with you here.”

  He nodded toward the shadows. “You can fetch that basin for me.”

  She lifted the hot enamel container from the shadowed dirt floor. Mossy-smelling steam brushed her face as she knelt in the crackling straw beside the horse.

  “Closer to me,” Night Hawk urged.

  Closer? She was already near enough to see the bold, high cut of his cheekbones and the wide, lean cut of his shoulders. He smelled pleasantly of night and wind. She managed to crawl a few more inches on her knees.

  He dipped a cloth into the steaming basin and wrung it well. He was big but his ministrations were gentle as he cleaned the blood from the horse’s wounded fetlock.

  She had never seen tenderness like this in so strong a man.

  “Now that the wound is cleaned, come closer,” he said. “Help me with the bandaging.”

  Unable to speak, Marie obeyed. Kneeling together in the shadows, she could feel his body’s radiant heat.

  Night Hawk held a roll of muslin to the gelding’s fetlock. “Hold this in place for me. Right here.” He caught her hand and pressed it to the bandage just above the gelding’s hoof.

  His touch was like sunlight, his nearness like dawn. New sensations burst to life within her.

  Then Night Hawk released her hand, but the sensations remained. He bent over his work, wrapping the horse’s wound. His rock-hard biceps brushed Marie’s shoulder. His jaw grazed the crown of her head. Bright, hot yearning ripped through her, leaving her trembling but not weak.

  He knotted the muslin strip and eased the hoof back to the ground. The gelding nickered, as if in thanks.

  “You have a gift.” She breathed the words, and embarrassment warmed her face. Couldn’t she hide this admiration for him better than that?

  “A gift? No, nothing special. Not like my father had.” Night Hawk straightened, towering over her, tall and proud, and then extended his hand to her. “I merely have a love for horses.”

  “So do I.” She placed her palm against his and climbed to her feet. Touching him this way felt unreal. As if it were part of an amazing dream.

  If only he would look at her. If only some of what she was feeling reflected in his dark, mysterious gaze. But she could tell he wasn’t interested in her. Not one bit.

  He thinks I’m too young. She bit back the urge to ask his age. To ask a thousand burning questions about him.

  Night Hawk spun in the direction of the door. “Here comes your father.”

  She didn’t hear anything. A few seconds later footsteps tapped on the path outside and a tall, imposing man marched into the dark stable.

  “Papa!” She launched herself past Night Hawk and Devil, skirts rustling, heart lifting. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been waiting all day. I knew you were busy—”

  “Now, daughter, contain yourself.” Colonel Henry Lafayette held up both hands as if the sight of her running at him, arms wide, was no way to behave.

  Marie stopped short and folded her arms around her middle.

  “I had an unavoidable crisis. Only just got it resolved. A bear is threatening the settlers, hardly surprising on the frontier, but there you have it. Sergeant James tells me you’ve settled in. What are you doing here?”

  Why had she expected, after years apart, he would be different? She hugged herself, feeling alone. “I came down to look for the mare you promised me. You did remember, didn’t you?”

  “I’m a busy man, Marie. Horses are dangerous. Not only that, but I can’t think it would be the best for your reputation. Ladies ride in buggies, not on the backs of animals.” Henry’s face changed and Marie saw a brief apology.

  Then it vanished, leaving only the commander’s stern manner. “And what about your behavior tonight? This is the frontier. You can’t walk around on your own, especially at this time of night.”

  Disappointment tasted bitter. She should have known. It’s just that his letter asking her to come had been so surprising. Now she could see she’d misinterpreted his meaning. He hadn’t wanted her as much as she’d hoped.

  Night Hawk’s moccasins made no sound on the straw-strewn floor as he approached. “Colonel, sir, I have been watching over your daughter. As you see, no harm has come to her.”

  “I owe you a debt of thanks, Night Hawk.” Henry shifted his attention on the silent man in the shadows and, again, his stern demeanor faded. “How is the gelding?”

  “Devil needs a few days’ rest. I’ll leave instructions with the stable master.” As if she wasn’t there, Night Hawk turned and looked past her. “Good night, Colonel.”

  Night Hawk stepped into the shadows and disappeared. Marie stared into the darkness, wishing, just wishing.

  “Honestly, Marie,” Henry boomed loud enough for every last soldier in the nearby barracks to hear. “I expected you to remain home until I arrived.”

  “Oh, Papa. I couldn’t wait forever in an empty house.”

  “How am I to maintain discipline in my ranks when I cannot command my own daughter? This is no way to start out your tenure here.”

  “My tenure?” She’d been a fool to think anything had changed between them. She’d traveled all the way from Ohio for this? “I’m not one of your privates ready to jump at your every command. I am a grown woman—”

  “That is quite enough, girl.” Henry pushed open the door. “Come, before I lose my temper.”

  Marie steeled her heart and headed into the night. A pleasant breeze caress
ed her face and tangled through her long wavy locks, scattering them every which way. She heard her father’s gait behind her, tapping brisk and even.

  “Good thing you came across Night Hawk. I run a tight fort and I command good men, but that doesn’t mean you should wander the grounds without an escort. The stables aren’t a proper place for a young lady.”

  “I can take care of myself. I’m not the girl you remember.”

  “No, but you are my daughter, and if anything should happen to you, I could never stand it.” A touch of warmth softened his stern manner. “I want you safe, Marie. A gently raised young lady such as yourself is not used to the dangers of the frontier.”

  “I’m not afraid—”

  “You could have been trampled today,” Henry interrupted. “You would have been had it not been for Night Hawk. That’s twice I’m indebted to him now. Twice. Do not put yourself in danger a third time.”

  Marie followed her father up the steps and onto the porch. Not knowing what to do, she leaned against the railing and gazed out on the night. Her father sat down in the shadows, and the wooden chair creaked. A match flared to life, a brief flame against the darkness. The first burst of smoke lifted on the wind.

  From Ohio, with his letter in hand inviting her to join him, it had seemed like an opportunity to make things better. Was it even possible to change things between them?

  He might be her father, but he was a colonel first. Always a colonel. Never a parent to remember birthdays and gifts. Never someone to turn to when the loneliness became too much to bear.

  “Go on up to your room and get some sleep, Marie.” He sounded gruff, just short of harsh, but he sounded strangely affectionate, too.

  “I’ll choose my own bedtime, thank you. The night is beautiful and there are so many things I want to say to you.”

  “Not tonight, daughter.” Embers glowed at the tip of his cigar as he inhaled. “I’ve had a tough day.”

  “I see.” So, he would dismiss her. His daughter. She pushed away from the porch.

  “Mrs. Olstad will have breakfast on the table at six hundred sharp. I’ll see you then.”

  “Yes, Papa. Good night.” She fled before he could answer, turning her back on the lonely night and the canyon of distance between them.