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

by Jillian Hart

  Night Hawk stepped inside his back door and grabbed a bottle of scotch from the pantry shelf, kept for the colonel’s visits. He faced a truth he’d known all along.

  These forbidden afternoons with Marie had to end. Now. Her laughter would no longer grace the wind. Her brightness would no longer complement the sun in his meadows. Her woman’s beauty would no longer make hunger sing in his veins.

  He snatched two clean cups from the kitchen shelf and headed into the cool night, resolute. He was wise enough to let go of what he could never have.

  “The problem I have is this.” Henry thanked him for the scotch. “I’ve got a daughter who needs to settle down. She’s twenty-one. Another few years and she’ll be a spinster too old to marry. That’s why I brought her out to teach at the settlement’s school. She doesn’t know it, but I intend to see her married before her term here is over.”

  Night Hawk set the bottle aside and leaned against the corral fence. He could see what was coming and he didn’t think he could stand listening to the colonel discuss possible husbands for Marie—all white, all successful and with much to offer her. “You need to discuss this with your daughter, Henry.”

  “I just want to make you see what I’m up against. Why she can’t be wandering about the countryside coming to your ranch to visit a damn horse. And why she can’t have whatever horse you sold her in the first place.”

  “You want to protect her.”

  “I want her married. I want to stop waking up at night worrying about what is going to happen to her. Is she safe living on her own? Is she happy? Am I ever going to have a grandson?” Henry took a deep swig and emptied his cup.

  Night Hawk handed him the bottle.

  Henry poured a liberal dose. “I’ve busted my hind-quarters trying to work my way up in this world to provide a better life for my daughter. And now she thinks she’s grown-up, when she’s nothing more than a child. She needs an advantageous marriage.”

  To a high-ranking officer. Night Hawk swallowed his disappointment and stared hard into the scotch, smooth and dark in his cup. His stomach clenched, and he set the cup aside. “One of your majors?”

  “Exactly. That’s the way a man thinks. See the logical advantage and work toward the goal. But a woman—” Henry drained his cup. “They buy a horse they don’t know how to ride.”

  Night Hawk stalked away. He wasn’t going to discuss Marie with her father. Henry wanted a confidant, but Night Hawk had his pride. Heart aching, he strode through the familiar shadows of his backyard, past the garden to where the mare leaned over the top rail, nickering quietly.

  “Good girl, Kammeo.” He rubbed her cheek. The comforting feel of a horse’s velvet warm and steeled power comforted the breaking of his heart.

  No, he wasn’t in love with Marie. Not yet.

  “The mare is nearly saddle trained, Henry.” Night Hawk battled to keep his business tone. “I just need a few more hours with her. She can be in your stables by the morning.”

  “No deal.” Henry stood, hands empty, his anger spent. “I don’t want to break an agreement, but Marie won’t be needing a horse. She’ll have Ned Gerard’s ring on her finger by the time the leaves fall, mark my words. If you need the money, I can buy the mare for the fort—”

  “No.” Night Hawk let his answer boom through the darkness. Watched its effect on Henry.

  “Ah, yes, well, I know where you stand. My captain of horses is one of the best I’ve seen.” Henry scooped his reins from the post, sounding regretful, sounding contrite. “I know you disagree with his methods.”

  Disagree? They went against everything Night Hawk stood for, but he remained silent. His words wouldn’t change how horses were treated at Henry’s fort and would only bring discord between them.

  “Good night.” Henry mounted with a creak of leather and the impatient sidestep of his gelding. “If Marie comes this way again, I want your word that you will escort her home immediately. And notify me.”

  “Keep watch on your own daughter, Henry.” Night Hawk could make no promises.

  Nor could he watch the man leave. Night Hawk climbed through the rails and laid his hand on Kammeo’s back. He felt the animal’s life force, strong and vibrant and as brilliant as Marie’s.

  The two belonged together.

  He knew what he had to do, knew it meant he would never look up and see Marie appearing from the shaded wood or feel her laughter ripple across his skin. He eased onto the mare’s back and waited while she twitched and sidestepped, first afraid, then uncertain, then accepting.

  Night Hawk steeled his heart and told himself it didn’t matter. He was like the hawk that hunted alone against the stars. And always would be.

  “A note came for you.” Mrs. Olstad tapped on Marie’s open bedroom door. “I hope you don’t think I’m your personal messenger. See it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Marie took the folded parchment from the frowning housekeeper and unfolded the paper.

  A bold, proud scrawl marked the page. “Look in the stable,” was all it said. She didn’t recognize the handwriting.

  Night Hawk? Was he at the fort to check on another horse? Was he hoping to see her?

  Joy swept through her like morning sunshine. He’d kept his parting promise to her—they would meet today. She tingled from head to toe as she selected her favorite bonnet from the top shelf of her wardrobe and then hurried a comb through her unruly locks.

  He was going to teach her to ride! Oh, the thought of his hand on her elbow as he helped her into the saddle. The anticipation of his mellow voice as rich as the night. She hoped this time he would be brave enough to cover her lips with his….

  She flew down the stairs and out the kitchen, Mrs. Olstad’s rebuke to not run in the house followed her out the door. Slow down, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to show up at the stable out of breath and covered with dust. But it wasn’t easy as she walked down the path that wove to the back of the fort.

  The stable doors were open. The interior felt oven-hot as she made her way inside. The stalls were empty. The scrape of a pitchfork against wood meant a stable boy was cleaning.

  Where was Night Hawk?

  She ambled down the main aisle, and her step echoed in the rafters overhead. She expected to see him kneeling down in a box stall, tending to a horse. Maybe they would walk back to his ranch together and they would spend all afternoon in the sunny meadow riding Kammeo. Marie could already feel the wind in her hair and the happiness from having Night Hawk at her side.

  She started down the back aisle; the scrape of the pitchfork grew sharper as she approached.

  “Are you Miss Lafayette?” A boy, who didn’t look more than a day over fifteen, tramped into the aisle to her right, holding a dirty pitchfork by the worn wood handle. “Night Hawk come by with something for you. Told me to make sure you saw it.”

  “He’s gone already?” Disappointment doused her joy like ice water. “What did he leave me? A saddle?” It was the only thing she could think he might bring to the stable.

  “Well, partly.” The lad pointed with the pitchfork’s tongs. “Last stall to your right. He says it’s yours.”

  A horrible feeling washed through her. If Night Hawk had sent a note but hadn’t stayed to see her—

  A familiar neigh split through her fears. Marie missed a step when a horse’s red muzzle reached into the aisle. The horse nickered in welcome, shaking her head up and down with excitement.

  “Kammeo.” Marie curled her fingers through the mare’s mane. Where was Night Hawk? Why had he left?

  Footsteps shuffled in the row behind her, not Night Hawk’s gait but the stable boy’s. “He said she was ready to ride. Left a saddle and bridle in the tack room. I sent word to my captain, but I ain’t heard if I’m supposed to saddle her for you.”

  “She’s ready to ride? That can’t be right.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Had Night Hawk finished Kammeo’s training without her?
No, he wouldn’t have done that. He wanted her and Kammeo to learn together. That was the reason he agreed to sell the mare to her in the first place.

  What was she to do now? She hadn’t paid him. She didn’t have any idea what a horse like this cost.

  “He said there was somethin’ else.” The stable boy stared hard at the floor. “I remember. He said the mare is a gift.”

  A gift? Marie pushed away from the mare, shaking as if she’d been caught in a blizzard’s arctic wind, and rushed down the aisle.

  Blood pounded in her ears as she ran. Why hadn’t Night Hawk kept his promise to her? He’d nearly kissed her yesterday evening. His affection for her had burned like an unmistakable blaze—in his eyes, in his voice, in his touch.

  Why had he done this without an explanation?

  Papa. He must have spoken with Night Hawk. Anger drove her out of the stable and down the path toward the administration buildings. She jerked open the door just as her father was walking out.

  “Marie Janelle!” Henry glared down at her. “Your hair is a mess, and your dress! What has gotten into you, young lady?”

  For once she ignored his criticism. Too much anger raged in her heart—a woman’s heart and not the girl he wanted her to be. “I want to know what you said to Night Hawk.”

  “What matters is you, Marie.” Henry lowered his voice and closed the distance between them. “Look at your dress. It’s covered with dust.”

  “You did speak to him. What did you tell him?”

  “A young lady your age wears her hair up and not tangling down her back like an urchin.”

  “Papa, will you listen to me? You told Night Hawk about your dreams of a West Point graduate for a son-in-law, didn’t you?”

  Henry’s face flushed. “I talked to him about the horse, Marie. I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re to stay in the settlement where you’re safe. School starts next week, and I want you to meet some more of the settlers’ children this afternoon.”

  This afternoon. When she was going to meet Night Hawk. White-hot anger lanced her like a newly sharpened blade. “I’m not one of your soldiers, Papa. Maybe if I say it enough, you’ll eventually notice it. I’ll do what I want.”

  “I’m restricting you to the grounds.”

  “You can’t do that—”

  “I am the colonel of this fort and I already have.” Anger flushed Henry’s face.

  He was right, and she hated it. She whirled away and kept going even when he called her name.

  Tomorrow, she would make her way through the woods, along the lake and into the meadow to see Night Hawk. She had to make certain he understood that the colonel didn’t control her.

  She knew what was important in life, and she wasn’t afraid. Not one bit.

  Don’t be nervous, Marie told herself as she hurried along the path by the lake. He was probably expecting her. He knew she’d come to thank him. He needed to know that whatever her father told him wasn’t true.

  Please, let him understand, she wished fervently as great blue herons startled into flight along the water’s edge.

  A shadow blurred across the trail ahead of her and barked a welcome. Meka! Her troubles lifted. Night Hawk was close, she was certain of it.

  “Yes, I remembered a treat for you.” Laughing as the dog nearly knocked over her basket, she reached inside and offered a sugar cookie.

  It was going to be all right, she told herself as Meka escorted her along the path. Night Hawk was waiting for her, and he would understand. Surely he knew Papa well enough to see how the older man would get carried away with his matchmaking plans. Their precious time together would not need to end.

  Soon she climbed the crest of the hill and Night Hawk’s land spread out before her with breathtaking wonder. She saw no sign of him. He wasn’t where the horses grazed in succulent green meadows. The house and the stables looked empty.

  Maybe he had gone to town. Maybe he had taken the road and she, the path, and they had missed each other. But even as those thoughts formed, she knew they were excuses, excuses meant to protect her foolish heart.

  Night Hawk would have taken Meka with him. When he went to town, the dog remained loyally outside the fort, waiting for his master’s return.

  There was only one reason Night Hawk would have left Meka behind.

  To escort her safely back to the settlement.

  No, there had to be another reason. Instinctively Marie fought to find another explanation—any explanation. He’d gone to help a neighbor, gone to tend a horse at the fort, run an errand, needed to check on his niece. Anything that would make his absence only an absence.

  But it was a fact. Whatever Papa had told him had had a definite impact. How could she repair the damage?

  She set her basket on the ground and curled up on the bottom porch step. Meka nosed the lid, trying to get into the cookies, and she scolded him. The big dog lay down at her feet, a true companion, and they waited together.

  The white thunderheads speeding in from the south crowded out the hazy sun. Their underbellies turned dark with the promise of rain. The wind turned gusty, almost cold, driving the scent of ripe apples and plums from the nearby orchard.

  Marie jumped when the first distant lightning bolt speared through the threatening clouds. The horses in the fields took off at a gallop, racing the perimeter of the pasture.

  A curtain of rain brushed the tops of the distant hills. A storm was coming. Suddenly the rain fell in hard cold bullets that bent the grasses double and rebounded on the earth. Marie climbed the steps and sought shelter beneath the porch roof. Lightning flashed in eye-searing streaks, thunder boomed and wind drove the rain hard.

  Still Night Hawk didn’t return.

  Marie waited until the lightning had passed and the wind slowed before she let Meka escort her home.

  He’d been racing the storm when Shadow broke through the trees. Rain fell in steady sheets, but even through the downpour, his gaze found her. Head down, bonnet drooping from the rain, her skirts soaked and clinging to her slim hips and thighs, Marie made her way through the wet meadow toward the lake and the trees. Toward the path that would see her safely home. Meka lifted his nose and scented the wind but remained by the woman’s side.

  Night Hawk eased Shadow into the trees and waited, protected from the rain by the sheltering maple but not from the pain in his heart.

  She moved like morning when the sun was new, even in the rain, even when he’d disappointed her. She turned one last time to gaze at the house, to scan the meadows and hillsides.

  He nudged Shadow farther back in the thicket.

  She lingered, as if she sensed his presence. Even as the rain drenched her and the wind lashed at her skirts. Even as she shivered from so far away.

  He felt the same cold move through him that appeared to quake through her. Like icy claws that scraped through flesh and bone all the way to his soul.

  It’s for the best, he told himself. But his heart didn’t believe it.

  He was no stranger to the difficulties of life. And no stranger to losing what could be.

  In the space of a heartbeat, Marie hurried down the trail and vanished from his sight, just like that, like a dream fading at dawn’s light.

  Night Hawk didn’t bother to lie to himself. To pretend she hadn’t enchanted him. That she was like any woman and easily forgotten. He knew what she was—his guiding light.

  Without her, his world would be dim and cold from this day forth.

  Chapter Seven

  The cozy, quiet sounds of children working out math problems on their slates filled the one-room schoolhouse. Marie paged through her primer, debating how big an assignment to give her next class.

  The crisp autumn days were pleasant, and she knew many of the children still had chores to complete this time of year. The harvesting of the major crops was over, but hay still had to be cut and hauled, gardens harvested and fruits and vegetables stored and preserved.

  A small lesson would be good.
She closed the book and called the second math class to the front. Ginny Ingalls, Morning Star and Rose Holmberg clambered to the front, nervous over their lesson to come.

  Ginny began solving the first subtraction problem given her. While Marie listened patiently, a movement through the window caught part of her attention.

  Night Hawk rode his stallion down the street, back straight, shoulders set, hard jaw unflinching. The wind whipped his long black hair, and he and the horse moved as one. He was poetry and power, wind and fire, and Marie’s entire being ached with longing and loss.

  “Is that right, Miss Lafayette?” Ginny asked, bringing her attention back to the three small children standing before her.

  “Perfect, Ginny. Morning Star, let’s see if you can solve this one.” Marie gave a second math problem, and Night Hawk’s niece quickly answered.

  If only there was a chance to get away, to steal the time to see Night Hawk.

  A part of her feared he would remain in the shadows again.

  He caressed his fingers down the line of her jaw, feeling a softness he’d never before known. A wisp of her dark, wavy hair brushed the side of his hand. Lust rolled through him as powerful as the leading edge of a tornado.

  Like a tornado, he couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t outrun it. Couldn’t defeat it. He ran the pad of his thumb over Marie’s lower lip, petal pink and soft before he covered her mouth with his.

  The brush of lips, the play of tongues, the mingling of breaths wasn’t enough. He was rock hard and she was moaning, low in her throat like a plea.

  She was softer than silk beneath her dress, where lace-edged drawers pulled away at the tug of his hands. He laid her down and they met like earth and sky, lightning and thunder, his hard shaft and her yielding flesh…

  Night Hawk woke with a roar. Lust beat in his veins as he threw off the sheet.