Captive Bride

by Carol Finch

  When she succumbed to tears, Hawk's fierce grip eased and he cradled her in his sinewy arms, his hands gently massaging away her tension. Kissing away her tears, he murmured soft words of compassion. And Rozalyn cried all the more, sobbing like an abandoned child, releasing the pent-up anger that had claimed her.

  "I did leave you with the Sioux for your own protection," Hawk whispered against the trim column of her throat. "I tried to set a trap for Half-Head, but he didn't come. When I returned to the fort Chumani offered herself to me, but I refused her. Do you hear me, Roz? I did not touch her. Nor did I invite her kiss." He sighed heavily and then cupped Rozalyn's tear-stained face in his hands. A faint smile brimmed his lips when he felt Rozalyn's rigid body relax against his. "I did not invite the kiss," he repeated. "I was waiting for this. . . ."

  His lips took hers, devouring yet savoring the sweet taste of her. Rozalyn wanted to believe his quiet words, but she didn't dare. A lifetime ago she had trusted him and he had betrayed her. Time had not erased the pain of lost love and she was afraid to surrender to emotion again, afraid of experiencing the same anguishing hurt and disillusionment. Her attraction to him was purely physical, she tried to tell herself. One day, when this ordeal was over, she would forget the way it was between them, forget the power Hawk held over her body.

  Hawk was possessed by the same gnawing hunger that overwhelmed him each time he dared to touch this shapely nymph. He must be mad to crave a woman who detested him so. Why couldn't he and Rozalyn just enjoy each other as they had that first night in St. Louis? Why rehash the past? Hawk asked himelf. He and Rozalyn could never go back. There was too much distrust, there were too many conflicts now. They were both too stubborn and headstrong to compromise, and perhaps the dream they had once shared had been born of pretense. They had been actors in a play, living their roles. They had become infatuated too soon and they had allowed themselves to be swept up in a fantasy. Hawk told himself these things, but that didn't stop him from wanting Rozalyn, madly, passionately.

  Even while Hawk was mentally listing all the reasons why they were wrong for each other, why they could never come to terms, he was holding her in his arms. He craved the honeyed taste of her lips, the sweet fragrance that was so much a part of her. He ached for this blue-eyed witch who could weave spells about him, make him forget reality.

  Rozalyn could feel the tension draining from her body. She cursed herself for yielding to Hawk's embrace, but she could not bring herself to reject him. His touch was magic. It always had been. Now he was consoling her in his own way, and Rozalyn needed his strength. She needed to become whole and strong again, so she could face the trials ahead of her.

  Her arms slid around his shoulders, and her head rested against his bare chest. For a long, quiet moment they held each other. It was a silent apology of sorts. Rozalyn was ashamed of herself for throwing a tantrum and Hawk berated himself for not having more clearly explained his reasons for sending Rozalyn to Chief Zitkatanka. She would not have been in such a fit of temper if he hadn't taunted her about trading her for hunting rights. Why was it so difficult to be honest with her? What was he afraid of? Of course, Rozalyn had told him she detested him so many times that he had come to expect condemnation from her. But wasn't he man enough to admit that he was guilty of employing the same tactic? Perhaps he and Rozalyn simply brought out the worst in each other. Perhaps they could never enjoy a compatible existence. They were too much alike although in some respects they were very different.

  "I made a spectacle of myself at the Sioux camp." Rozalyn muffled a sniff. "I'm sure the chief thinks I am possessed by demon spirits."

  Hawk chuckled softly. "I think Zitkatanka admires your spirit . . . but he prefers to do so from a safe distance." His fingers absently combed through the tangled tresses that streamed over Rozalyn's shoulders. "I am as much to blame for your behavior as you are. If I had told you I wished to keep you safe from Half-Head instead of leading you to believe I had bartered you, perhaps—"

  "I still would have protested," Rozalyn finished for him. Slipping from Hawk's encircling arms, she turned her back on him and wiped away the last of her tears. "You were right about me, Hawk. I am spoiled and set in my ways. I don't appreciate being ordered about, and I am not accustomed to taking commands without question. My father expected nothing of me, nor I of him. I have long been in control of my life, just as you have. It is not easy to change." A demure smile touched her lips as she slowly turned back to face Hawk. "It is true, you know. Chumani would not cause you as much trouble. She is shy, retiring, and submissive. I can never be any of those things. I have grown up like an untended wild flower. And as much as you may disapprove of the way I am, I cannot—will not—change," she softly amended. Raising beseeching blue eyes, Rozalyn met Hawk's solemn expression. "Please let me go. Let's end this constant feud for dominance. You and I have brought each other nothing but trouble. Let Jonas take me back to St. Louis. I will pay him well for the time he cannot trap in the mountains."

  "No," Hawk said flatly. "Your father owes the trappers a long-standing debt. You are all I have to bargain with."

  "Is that all I mean to you? Do you see me as no more than a gambit?" Rozalyn tilted her chin and summoned her composure. "Look again, Hawk. I am not a possession to be bartered and sold for your purpose. I have feelings and you have trampled all over them."

  "I once told you that you meant far more to me than a pawn to be played to my advantage, but you rejected me," Hawk muttered sourly. "Don't press me for a confession. I'll not make that same mistake again."

  "I rejected you?" Rozalyn echoed incredulously. "That is not at all what happened and you damned well know it. You were playing a game with me, using me, maneuvering me for your purpose. Do you expect me to thank you for that?"

  "Should I thank you?" Hawk parried, his voice carrying an undertone of sarcasm. "Perhaps I should refresh your memory, cherie. I apologized for what happened with your father and you said it made little difference because you had professed love just to keep me dangling from a string to suit your purpose."

  "I only said those things because I was hurt by your use of me to gain favors from my father," she argued defensively. "When I said I loved you I—" Rozalyn slammed her jaw shut before her tongue outdistanced her brain.

  Hawk's expression became stone sober. "Are you admitting that you did love me?" he asked point-blank.

  Rozalyn had vowed never to speak those words again, not unless she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hawk felt some deep affection for her. She still didn't have the faintest idea where she stood with this reckless mountain man, and she was too proud and stubborn to bare her heart again. It was too soon to risk having her mending heart broken again.

  "I thought I was ... in the beginning." Rozalyn carefully chose her words. Presenting her back to him, she stared at the opposite wall. She was afraid to look Hawk squarely in the eye, afraid he could decode her emotions. "But what I feel most of all now is bitterness and betrayal. I can never love a man I cannot trust, and I would never know when you might turn on me."

  "Those are my sentiments exactly." Hawk laughed without humor. "You saved my life once. I cannot imagine why, for you have repeatedly threatened to do me bodily harm." Hawk raked his fingers through his tousled hair and then let his arm drop loosely at his side. "And don't ask me why I have this fierce instinct to protect you from Half-Head, an instinct that runs deeper than my own need for survival."

  Heaving a sigh, Rozalyn pivoted to face him. A rueful smile grazed her lips as her index finger traced the stubble on Hawk's jaw. "Does it mean so much to have my father deal fairly with your friends?"

  Her gentle touch turned Hawk to mush. He felt like a growling panther being soothed and stroked into purring with satisfaction. His reaction to this quick-tempered vixen truly baffled him. How could he be so furious with her one minute and so content the next? She had managed to drive him mad somewhere between St. Louis and Fort William, and she still had him swinging back
and forth, on an emotional pendulum, between passion and fury. He wondered if he would be capable of rational thought, after they had gone their separate ways. He had grown accustomed to contrasting sensations, to the fine line between love and hate, madness and sanity. When Rozalyn finally walked out of his life how would he function? Where would he find such a challenge? The threat of constant danger in the wild did not lure him as strongly as this blue-eyed temptress.

  Hawk had awakened each day during the past two months, wondering when and how he and Rozalyn would clash, trying to determine how to deal with her. When she was gone, how could he greet the dawn sky that reminded him of her blue eyes? How could he face the sunset when it reminded him of the warmth of her smile? Finally, Hawk pushed aside his troubled contemplations and circled back to her question.

  His lean fingers folded around her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I made a vow, Roz. I promised my fellow trappers better treatment at the summer rendezvous. It is a vow I cannot break. Too many lives have been lost for too little. One day soon I hope you will understand why your father's dealings are so important to me."

  His strong loyalty to the trappers who faced the hazards of the wild touched Rozalyn's heart. She wished Hawk felt that same strong loyalty to her, but she was glad she was beginning to comprehend how much he loved the life he led. This vast and often perilous wilderness was a part of him. It was in his blood. How could she hope to compete with his love of it. Could she burrow into a heart that belonged to towering mountains and fertile meadows? I can't, Rozalyn realized sadly. She could remain at Hawk's side, taking the passion he offered, learning to respect her competition; but she could not take the mountains from this awesome man who was half-wild, half-civilized. Resigning herself to the bleak truth, she expelled a heavy-hearted sigh. Her lot in life was to love this rogue with the dancing green eyes and shiny raven hair. She would go on loving him from a distance, knowing she could never have him all to herself, but that was like trying to grasp a handful of moonbeams.

  Perhaps it was best to share her life with Hawk until it was time for them to part. And when they went their own ways, she could only hope that a warm memory of her would linger in his heart. Perhaps, now and then, he would remember her. Maybe he would smile quietly to himself as he recalled how fiercely they had fought and how wildly they had loved.

  Her lashes fluttered up, and misty blue eyes sketched his craggy features, adoring the unique way smile lines splayed across his face. "Then I shall help you keep your vow to your friends," Rozalyn promised softly. "I will become your pawn if you can afford my price."

  When her silky arms slid around his neck, Hawk looked pleasantly startled. Then a cautious smile slid across his lips. "We have bargained before, minx. I am still uncertain which of us emerged the winner. What must I pay for your devotion to my cause?"

  "In return I request your loyalty," Rozalyn informed him huskily. Her body moved suggestively against his hard, male contours, kindling the old familiar flame Hawk was hard-pressed to ignore.

  "My loyalty?" One dark brow rose to a quizzical angle. "I'm not certain I understand your meaning."

  "Don't you?" Her throaty voice made his skin prickle. "Perhaps it is best if I show you what I mean," she said as her breasts taunted his bare chest. "When another woman behaves like this"—her inviting lips feathered across his, dragging a tormented groan from his throat— "do not respond to her in this manner." Her open mouth slanted across his lips, and her darting tongue intruded to tease and arouse. Slowly, she withdraw, but only far enough to increase Hawk's craving for her.

  "And if some other woman should assault you in this manner"—her bold caresses trickled down the thick matting of hair on his chest and then weaved across the corded muscles of his thigh—"do not answer her invitation like this. . . ." Her hand folded over his, leading his fingertips to the front of her gaping shirt to mold flesh against flesh.

  Hawk's knees buckled beneath him. The feel of her satiny skin beneath his palms fed his hunger for her and left him breathing in ragged spurts. Her inventive techniques were arousing his passion.

  "And if this wicked witch dares to do this"—a roguish grin crossed Hawk's lips, and he grasped the hem of her buckskin shirt, drawing it over her head, baring her full breasts to his hawkish gaze—"I suppose it would never do for me to touch her like this. . . ."

  His hot, greedy kisses spilled over the slope of her shoulder to trace a path of fire to the taut peak of her breast while his skillful hands ventured along her ribs. Caresses, as light as the skimming touch of a butterfly, fluttered across her skin, sensitizing each nerve ending.

  "Most definitely not." Rozalyn, too, breathed erratically now.

  "And this wouldn't do either, I suppose," Hawk murmured against the valley of her breasts as his adventurous hands hovered over the leather laces of her breeches.

  "Nor this . . ." Her lips moved provocatively against his, pressing his bold manhood against her and suggesting an intimacy that made Hawk's heartbeat quicken.

  "I thought not," Hawk groaned, his voice tormented. He was quickly losing interest in this tempting game. After all, he could endure only a limited amount of such teasing before his primal needs took command of his body.

  He glanced toward the upended cot and then thoughtfully studied the plush fur rug set before the small hearth. An inviting flame glowed in the fireplace, one Hawk could not resist. His good arm slid beneath Rozalyn's knees, and swiftly, he carried her across the demolished room and set her on her feet. The golden light caressed her flesh while his flaming green eyes devoured the exquisite sight of her.

  And Rozalyn studied him in the flickering fire light as he stripped from his breeches. Again he reminded her of a sleek black panther, a solid mass of brawn and muscle. The hard terrain of his body aroused her, tempted her to touch what her eyes beheld, and she could not resist running a dainty finger over the lean muscles of his belly or the sinewy columns of his thighs.

  "I want no other woman to know you by touch, Hawk." Rozalyn's voice was soft, but insistent. "During the months we spend together I ask that we share passion only with each other. That is all I request of you. I will demand nothing more and I will expect nothing less. If you can accept me on my terms', I will make no attempt to escape you."

  Hawk s husky laughter drifted about them, tickling Rozalyn's senses and urging her closer to his hard, masculine strength. He hooked his arm around her waist when she involuntarily swayed toward him, lifting her petite body from the planked floor as he peered into her spellbinding blue eyes. "You have made me an offer I cannot refuse. A truce then, temptress ... on your own terms. Shall we seal our vow with a kiss?"

  He did not allow Rozalyn the opportunity to accept or reject his suggestion. His sensuous lips swooped down on hers with such savage urgency that she could not draw a breath, could only surrender to his crushing embrace. His kiss carried enough heat to inflame the night. Her body, alive with rapturous sensations, quivered with anticipation.

  When Hawk pressed her to the fur rug, his practiced hands began to move over her, eliciting eager responses. Long, lean fingers glided up and down her thighs, drifted over the shapely curves of her hips. Like a river meandering along its course, his caresses flowed across her belly, then rose in leisurely fashion to encircle the throbbing peaks of her breasts. Rozalyn sighed with pleasure when his lips retraced their tantalizing path across the inviting contours of her body. Over and over again his kisses and caresses aroused and massaged, making desire unfurl in every part of her being. ButRozalyn hungered to return the sweet torment.

  Perhaps she could not compete with the majestic mountains and their perilous beauty. And she was unlike the submissive Indian maiden who had once shared Hawk's bed, but she could prove to him that she could stir him in her own way. She would not say that he had captured her heart, but she could silently show Hawk that she worshipped the feel of his muscular body, that she treasured their intimate moments of giving and sharing.

  When Rozalyn
propped herself beside him, Hawk watched her glistening hair tumble over her shoulders and whisper across his chest. The flickering light captured her perfect features, casting bewitching shadows on her ivory skin as her gentle hands splayed across his chest and then descended to map the hard muscles that curled around his ribs. Ever so slowly, her caresses glided across his abdomen, and he caught his breath when her fingertips traced the corded muscles of his inner thigh. Then her touch receded, skipping across his hair-roughened flesh to curl around each male nipple.

  Hawk swore he would die of pleasure when her moist lips followed the titillating trail she had blazed with her provocative caresses. He couldn't breathe. His mind had turned to mush, his body to clay. She was molding him into her own creation, leaving him a quivering mass of muscle that flexed and relaxed each time her fingertips grazed his pliant flesh.

  A muffled groan tumbled from Hawk's lips. Her skillful touch was driving him insane. Rozalyn knew how to please and arouse him, to make him quake with maddening hunger. A gnawing arose in the pit of his belly, and it channeled through every part of his body. Adeptly, he twisted away from Rozalyn's tempting touch. Then his sleek, hard body moved over hers, his muscles taut as he braced himself above her.

  Rozalyn's lashes fluttered up to meet the fire that blazed in his emerald eyes. Their glow took her breath away, and the savage nobility in his rugged features made her feel like the defenseless prey of a mountain lion. His gaze pierced her soul, freeing deep-seated feelings that had been safely tucked away.

  "Roz . . . You touch me and I cannot control the fierce passions that rage within me." His voice was rough and ragged, his gaze so intense that she could feel the heat of it upon her skin. "You think me a beast, a heathen?" His raven head came deliberately toward hers, his eyes focused on the sensuous curve of her lips, as if he were mesmerized by the sight of them. "I am that," Hawk confessed huskily. His eyes took on a pained expression when he noticed the red blotches on her face where his stubbled beard had brushed abrasively against her tender skin. "I am half-man, half-savage. Even when I garb myself in the fancy trappings of a gentleman I cannot be like your sophisticated dandies. I wanted you, even in the beginning, and I was never gentleman enough to deny myself. The fire between us has always lured me into its flames. I cannot help what I am and I cannot help wanting you. Love me, Roz." His voice echoed with barely restrained desire. "I need you as a starving man craves nourishment. . . ."