Captive Bride

by Carol Finch

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Bear-Claw advised. The expression on his weathered face assured the warrior that Bear-Claw would enjoy putting a bullet through him.

  Rozalyn watched in anguish as the two men tumbled over the jagged rocks. When Half-Head's fist connected with Hawk's midsection, she squeezed her eyes shut. But she quickly opened them and saw, to her relief, that Hawk had answered the powerful blow and that Half-Head was staggering backward. Sneering at his foe, Half-Head leaped on Hawk, and again the two men rolled across the broken boulders. Even the blanket of snow did not soften their fall and Rozalyn grimaced imagining how painful it must be to tumble over the sharp-edged rocks. The one who managed to walk away from the battle would undoubtedly be marred by cuts and bruises.

  Each combatant strained to prevail, but it seemed they had come to a stalemate, neither able to gain an advantage. Adrenalin spurted through both men, giving their powerful bodies superhuman strength. Hawk was as determined to seek revenge as Half-Head was, and nothing short of a rockslide could interrupt their fierce battle. Suddenly, Hawk crouched, yanking Half-Head off balance, and hurling him into a forward somersault. Then, like a striking snake, he pounced on his dazed victim, using his muscular legs to inflict a painful blow to Half-Head's groin. When the hideous brute fell back to his knees, hugging himself and growling in agonized fury, Hawk's heel caught him in the chin, snapping his bowed bead backward.

  Rozalyn breathed a thankful sigh, certain the brawl was over. But to her dismay, Half-Head snatched up his knife, and, a vicious sneer curling his lips, he vaulted to his feet, jabbing the razor-sharp blade at his mortal enemy. Hawk dodged the assault and clutched his own knife, prepared to match blade with blade. Then both men circled, like two warring beasts about to enter into another phase of battle. They retreated and advanced, each waiting to catch the other off guard. For what seemed a breathless eternity they measured each other with calculating gazes, striking, recoiling, and then lunging again. Half-Head finally made the fatal mistake of overextending himself in an attack. After agilely sidestepping the assault, Hawk wheeled around and buried his dagger in his enemy's heaving chest.

  When Half-Head let loose with a furious growl, Rozalyn turned her head, sickened by the bloody sight. She expected Hawk to further humiliate his fallen foe by relieving Half-Head of what was left of his scalp, but to her relief, Hawk strode toward her. When he noticed the discolorations on her face, he snarled vindictively and pivoted back toward Half-Head, vowing to finish what he had begun three years earlier.

  "No more, please . . ." Rozalyn choked out.

  Her words were muffled by the sound of the Blackfoot brave's horse thundering through the ravine. Hawk spun around to watch the warrior's retreat, then he glared at Bear-Claw.

  "Why did you allow him to escape?" he muttered. "Why do you think I brought you with me, if not to even the odds. You are losing your touch, old man. There was a time when no one could have escaped you if it was not your want."

  A sheepish smile spread across Bear-Claw's lips as he stared down at his disgruntled companion. "I was so distressed about Rozalyn being abducted from the cabin that I forgot to reload my rifle after I shot the antelope. If that Blackfoot had called my bluff you would have been-in a helluva lot of trouble."

  "My thanks for at least looking convincing," Hawk snorted gruffly. But his expression became tender when he looked at Rozalyn's bruised face. "Did he ... ?" Hawk couldn't bring himself to ask the question that haunted him. He wasn't sure he could bear hearing the grizzly details of her captivity.

  "Shouldn't we be getting back to the cabin?" Bear-Claw interjected, noticing the strained silence between Hawk and his woman. "I'll fetch our horses while you tend to the lady."

  Hawk hurriedly untied Rozalyn's hands and feet before swinging up behind her in the saddle. The feel of his hard body stirred a myriad of warm memories in her, and Rozalyn slumped back against Hawk, content to be safe in the circle of his arms. There was no place she would rather be.

  "Remind me to express my gratitude for the rescue when we have returned to the cabin." She sighed contentedly. "Half-Head promised to compensate me for insulting him once we reached the Blackfoot camp. I am eternally thankful I was not forced to endure more than his beating. . . ." Her voice trailed off and she shuddered involuntarily when her gaze drifted to the fallen brute. Rozalyn didn't want to imagine how repulsive Half-Head's treatment of her would have been. She could think of no greater torture than being forced to surrender to him.

  Hawk sagged in relief, and then he drew Rozalyn even closer against him. He would have been unable to forgive himself if this enchanting minx had suffered Half-Head's degrading assault. Rozalyn belonged to him, and the fact that Half-Head had struck her infuriated him. If Rozalyn had not protested, Hawk would have derived satisfaction from sending Half-Head to his maker with not one strand of hair on his head.

  However, he deliberately cast aside his vengeful thoughts. Rozalyn already thought him to be half-savage. He need not confirm her low opinion by allowing her to witness him lifting a scalp from a fallen enemy. Still, it seemed unjust not to repay Half-Head for all the scalps he had taken during his miserable, murdering life.

  The feel of Rozalyn's womanly body brought Hawk's thoughts back to the present. She was safe. That was the important thing. The devil could deal with Half-Head.

  "I am anticipating your display of gratitude, cherie amie," he murmured, nuzzling the trim column of her neck and inhaling the delicious scent of her.

  A tingle of delight ricocheted through Rozalyn. She could imagine the two of them nestled together beneath the quilts, sharing. . . . But her spirits sank when she remembered that she and Hawk would not be alone in the cabin. Bear-Claw could not set out for his own shack late at night, especially with a blizzard impending. Despair closed in on Rozalyn as they journeyed through the snowy passes. Going home might have been . . .

  Home? Rozalyn frowned. She no longer had a home. She was a vagabond. She did not truly belong in these rugged mountains, nor could she ever again be content in St. Louis. What would become of her once Hawk delivered her to her father? Rozalyn didn't want to ponder that depressing question. She and Hawk would go their separate ways soon enough. But for a lifetime she would remember how it had been between them. She would never forget this awesome mountain man with coal black hair and eyes of emerald green. Together, they had fought their way cross-country, but, oh, the pleasures they had discovered when they'd made love. . . .

  Chapter 21

  An apologetic smile hovered on Bear-Claw's lips when he glanced at Rozalyn. "Sorry about your johnnycakes. We didn't return in time to rescue them."

  Her shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. "It is no matter. I'm sure they wouldn't have been as tasty as yours," she murmured absently.

  While Hawk and Bear-Claw set to work preparing the carcass for roasting, Rozalyn stirred up another batch with a less than enthusiastic effort. Each time she paced in front of the window, her gaze locked with Hawk's. She could see the impatient hunger in his emerald eyes, feel the intense heat that radiated from them. But Bear-Claw remained an obstacle to privacy.

  When the evening had lengthened, Hawk was prowling about the cabin like a caged predator, Rozalyn was wringing her hands, and Bear-Claw was beaming like a weasel who has feasted on a plump chicken. He was greatly amused by the young mountain man's discomfort.

  "I suppose we should retire," Bear-Claw finally announced, stifling a yawn. "It has been a full, rich day. Hawk?" His gaze lifted to the loft above Rozalyn's cot, his ornery grin intact. "Shall we allow the lady privacy while she prepares for bed?"

  Hawk would have preferred that Bear-Claw grant him and Rozalyn privacy, but he knew the old man wasn't about to budge from the cabin. His gaze settled on Rozalyn for a moment before he reluctantly followed Bear-Claw to the ladder that led to the loft.

  He hadn't intended to snuggle up to Bear-Claw's broad back that night! In fact, the very thought of spending his sleeping hours
in a crowded loft with that ornery mountain goat turned Hawk's disposition as sour as a lemon. Grumbling a good night to Rozalyn, Hawk peeled off his shirt and eased beneath the quilts, only to hear Bear-Claw cackling like a nesting hen.

  "Quiet, old man," Hawk grumbled, nudging Bear-Claw farther away. "And don't press your luck. You know I am not at all pleased with the sleeping arrangements. Be advised that the slightest badgering from you could provoke me into shuffling you out of your cozy nest to share the shed with the horses."

  Bear-Claw was not intimidated by the threat. With a forceful tug he pulled on his share of the fur quilt, leaving the right side of Hawk's tense body bare. "Ungrateful oaf," he snorted, burrowing deeper into the cozy warmth of the bed. "But for me, you would have been a dead man this afternoon. That Blackfoot had every intention of burying his hatchet in your back."

  "You were a lot of help," Hawk sniffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What kind of fool ventures into battle with an unloaded rifle? I'm beginning to wonder if my purpose would have been better served if you had taken my enemy's side."

  "Go to sleep," Bear-Claw ordered gruffly, giving the quilt another tug when Hawk threatened to pull it away. "You are only pouting because you have to sleep above rather than below. The sooner you learn to keep your hands off that woman the better. You know there can be no future for the two of you. Do you think to send her home with your child to further infuriate her father?"

  That possibility stripped Hawk of argument. He had been thinking only of his insatiable craving for his blue-eyed enchantress. Now he wondered if they had already created a child? He didn't want to consider the repercussions. He just wanted Rozalyn in his arms, responding ardently to his kisses and caresses. Dammit, what had happened to the simple life he had known, the good, free life in which he had had to answer to no one but himself?

  Grappling with these distressing thoughts, Hawk flounced about, seeking a more comfortable position. But he was unable to find one becuase he was too aware of the shapely nymph who lay abed below. The hours crept by at a snail's pace, and although Hawk begged for sleep, it didn't come. He had dreamed of this night for three torturous weeks. Finally Hawk lost the battle of self-conquest. Carefully, he inched away from Bear-Claw and swung a leg over the loft, his bare foot groping for the rung of the ladder.

  But he expelled the breath he had been holding when Bear-Claw propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous grin on his weathered features. Even in the darkness Hawk could see the ornery mountain goat beaming at him.

  "Just where do you think you're going in the middle of the night?"

  "As if the varmint doesn't know," Hawk muttered under his breath.

  Bear-Claw patted the empty space beside him. "Settle yourself in your nest, Hawk. You aren't going to lay a hand on that girl, not while I'm sleeping under the same roof."

  "That can quickly be remedied," Hawk growled spitefully. "The way you're behaving, one would think you were her father." Begrudgingly, he plopped down on the spot he had just vacated.

  Refusing to respond to that comment, Bear-Claw flung the quilt over Hawk's puffed chest. "Go to sleep for Christ's sake. Think about something besides your lust for Roz. You are already in so deep, it's going to tear out your heart to let her go."

  Mulling over Bear-Claw's remark, Hawk squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to clear his mind. But how does one think of nothing when one is aching to appease an obsessive craving that has preoccupied him for twenty-four days?

  While Hawk battled the beast within him, Rozalyn lay on her back, staring at the loft above her. She had heard Hawk and Bear-Claw arguing, and she suspected that the old mountaineer would not tolerate their dallying in the darkness, right under his nose. And just why is that? she wondered. She knew Bear-Claw had become as fond of her as she had become of him. Was he playing the protective father? Unlikely, for Bear-Claw must have known she and Hawk had been intimate during the months they had spent together. How could any woman resist a man like Hawk? Rozalyn had only known him a day before she'd surrendered to him.

  Heaving a heavy sigh, she shifted onto her side and willed her eyes to close. Perhaps it was best that she and Hawk kept their distance, the quiet voice of reason said. What future could they have? They could share the winter, but when the summer came, they would be forced to part. Oh, what's the use? Rozalyn thought miserably. She hugged her pillow, knowing it was a pitiful substitute for what she craved. But it was all she had, all she would ever have when Hawk traded her back to her father.

  To Rozalyn's dismay, when she woke the wind was whispering down the gullies and a gloomy gray sky was spitting snow. Within an hour the wind was whistling and then it was screaming as it swept across the towering precipices. Bear-Claw turned away from the drafty window, announcing that he couldn't depart during a blizzard. Parking himself in a chair and whittling on a twig, he waited for Rozalyn to prepare their breakfast.

  The mere thought that Bear-Claw could be an uninvited guest for many days soured Hawk's testy disposition. Like a pouting child who has not been granted his way, Hawk paced the confines of the cabin, praying the inclement weather would ease before the day was out. Reluctantly, he plopped onto the chair across from Bear-Claw and glared at the intruder.

  Ignoring Hawk's blatantly hostile stare Bear-Claw eased back onto his seat. "Did I ever tell you about the time I happened onto glass mountain?"

  Hawk rolled his bloodshot eyes, evidence that he had not slept a wink, and chugged his coffee. "At least a dozen times," he grumbled grouchily. "And every time you spin that yarn it becomes more unbelievable."

  "But Rozalyn hasn't heard it," Bear-Claw parried, undaunted by Hawk's gruff attempt to silence him. "I was out hunting one spring when I spotted a magnificent antelope grazing in the distance. I crept closer to take careful aim and when I fired, the animal never moved. I knew I couldn't have missed at that range, but neither could I explain why I hadn't wounded my game." After taking a small sip of coffee, Bear-Claw continued with his tall tale. "When I moved closer, the antelope showed no sign of catching my scent. He continued to graze as if he were alone in the meadow. I knelt to steady myself and hen fired again. But again nothing happened. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. By then I was getting frustrated. I checked my rifle to be sure it wasn't misfiring, but there was nothing wrong with it. After my fourth shot with the same baffling results I was getting mad as hell. Had I been drinking I would have sworn I was imagining things, but I was stone sober."

  Rozalyn paused from her chore to cast a bemused glance at Bear-Claw. She had heard dozens of the old man's fantastic stories, but this one was the most outrageous of all. "And how did you solve such a dilemma?" she asked. "Was the antelope a mirage?"

  Bear-Claw gave his shaggy head a negative shake. "It was no mirage and I wasn't hallucinating. Since I was determined to solve the mystery I grabbed the butt of my rifle and stalked toward my prey, planning to club him over the head, if need be. But lo and behold, I crashed right into an invisible wall. After investigating, I found it to be a transparent mountain that had the effect of a telescope. Why, that antelope was miles away! It was no wonder my rifle didn't faze him."

  "Miles," Hawk crowed in disbelief. "The last time I heard that tale it was three shots and half a mile."

  "Are you saying I'm exaggerating?" Bear-Claw challenged, proudly drawing himself up in his chair.

  "That is exactly what I'm saying," Hawk snorted as he propped his elbows on the table to glare at the old mountain man.

  Before the two men came to blows over the authenticity of the far-fetched tale, Rozalyn shoved their plates beneath their noses.

  "At least this won't be difficult to swallow." Hawk sniffed sarcastically.

  "I don't take kindly to your calling me a liar," Bear-Claw grumbled, taking fork in hand.

  "More coffee?" Rozalyn interjected, laying her hand-on Bear-Claw's shoulder to soothe him before he rose to Hawk's taunt.

  The older mountain man retracted his claws and lifted hi
s empty cup. "Please." His twinkling eyes settled on the comely beauty who hovered beside him. "Sit down, lass. I think I've neglected to tell you about the time I was attacked by a pack of hungry wolves up in the Yellowstone. I thought I had seen my last sunrise when . . ."

  Hawk inwardly groaned as Bear-Claw began to weave another wild tale. He was afraid he and Rozalyn would not enjoy a moment's peace until spring thaw. Bear-Claw would undoubtedly be stranded with them for the duration of the winter. If so, he knew he would become stark raving mad.

  And so it went for three, endless days while the ferocious winter storm raged outside the mountain cabin. Hawk became like a man walking on needles and pins. His self-restraint had been jabbed and pricked until it resembled a sieve. He would have given most anything to have the meddling mountain man out from underfoot. And Rozalyn fared no better than Hawk. The days and nights of being so close and yet so far away made her tense and edgy. Each time she brushed past Hawk, caught his male scent and felt the hard warmth of his body tormentingly close to hers, she wanted to scream out her frustration, to run into Hawk's arms and end the agony of wanting.

  But while Hawk and Rozalyn prayed for the storm to cease, Bear-Claw was grinning in wicked satisfaction. Hawk was now certain the old coot intended to plant Himself in the cabin for the winter, he did not believe Bear-Claw would return to the isolation of his own shack. The hermit had become a permanent fixture in Hawk's cabin and had seemingly relinquished his claim that a man could enjoy living alone in the mountains.

  Finally, after an entire week had passed, Bear-Claw announced, that he needed to return to his cabin. Rozalyn was elated, and she muffled a chuckle as she watched Hawk practically drag Bear-Claw toward the door and into the snowdrift that rose in front of the shack. When the mountain man wormed away and reversed direction to say adieu to Rozalyn, Hawk's mood turned pitch black once again.