Captive Bride

by Carol Finch

  "Even when you know we can't have forever?" Hawk queried softly. "Can you still love me as if we had an eternity when you are well aware the time will come when we will be forced to say goodbye?"

  Rozalyn nodded slightly, and a rueful smile pursed her lips. Lovingly she ran her fingers through his tousled hair. "I will do what I must to be granted what time we can have, but I won't stop loving you when summer comes. My father may take me away, but he cannot strip me of my memories. I will look back on this winter in the mountains and I will remember."

  Hawk eased onto his side, turning Rozalyn so that her shapely body was molded familiarly to him, and entwining her fingers in his, he gazed into the dancing flames, watching them skip across the glowing logs. "Then we will make these months ours . . . until it's time for you to go," he promised huskily. "I prefer to love you, even though I know I will be forced to give you up. It is preferable to spending the winter fighting churning emdtions. I have battled myself far too long as it is."

  Rozalyn twisted to face him, looping her arms over his muscular shoulders. "We shall make the most of our time together. We have the winter and the spring. They will be the most beautiful of seasons, and in years to come, I will look back and remember the glorious time when the world was ours."

  Her parted lips whispered over his, kindling a flame that could never burn itself out, and then she moved suggestively against him, sensitizing every part of his being. "Do you know the moment I first fell in love with you” Hawk laughed softly, striving to keep his mind on her words rather than the arousing way her hips arched to his. "No, minx. It's a wonder to me that I impressed you when the rest of your beaux met with defeat."

  Rozalyn ignored his remark, and her hand absently trailed along the sinewed columns of his legs. She didn't want to think of men who had not stirred her to deep emotion. "It was when you dared to seduce me right under Grand'mere's nose."

  "And I knew I would never forget the mischievous imp who offered me a kiss that carried a bit," he chortled. "I proclaimed you were the light and love of my life—and it was no lie I gave." A ragged sigh bubbled from his chest as he nuzzled against the silky flesh of her shoulder. "I do love you, Roz. I knew I had met my match. The torment of believing you hated me for betraying you was agony to bear."

  His quiet words softened her, and she regretted the harsh, biting remarks she had made to soothe her injured pride. "Hawk? If I ask something of you, will you answer me honestly?" Rozalyn knew she had no right to request this of him but she was aching to know.

  He leaned back to peer into her quizzical blue eyes. "What is it, chere amie?"

  "When winter comes again . . . and I have gone away . . ." Roz tried to express her thoughts in a delicate manner so Hawk would not be annoyed by her prying question. "When you long for a woman . . ."

  His tanned finger glided across her Tips, quieting her and a tender smile grazed his lips. "This is our hideaway . . . yours and mine. The memories that linger here will remain always. Hear this and believe it, sweet nymph. This cabin will stand as a monument to the love we share. It will be all I have left. And no matter how far away you are, part of you will remain here with me."

  Hawk hadn't said that another woman wouldn't satisfy his passions, but at least he had said their love mattered to him. He was a man who had been attracted to many women. She could not expect his fidelity in years to come, but the thought of another woman sleeping in his arms tore her heart in two.

  "While you are flitting about St. Louis with a procession of men trailing after you, vying for your attention, will you allow—"

  It was Rozalyn's turn to press her finger to his lips to silence his question. She realized it would be impossible to cling to an emotion that couldn't last forever or to make promises neither of them might not be able to keep in the years to come. "I was wrong to question you, to expect you to predict your future. Nor can I foretell mine. I suppose we must both do what we must to survive." Her voice trembled, and her eyes swam with tears. "But for now, love me for all the tomorrows we cannot share together."

  Ever so gently, Hawk pressed her onto her back, his kisses and caresses silently communicating the pleasure he discovered when he touched her. His breath whispered over the satiny slope of her shoulder, his lips brushing the throbbing peaks of her breasts as his hands reverently mapped the soft planes of her body, coaxing, arousing, spreading an invisible coverlet of rapture over her skin. His tongue flicked; his lips possessed. His caresses weaved intricate patterns across her belly before his hands receded to circle each dusky peak. His skillful touch was like that of a harpist stroking the strings, making her body sing with exquisite pleasure. It was sweet agony. Rozalyn knew she could never forget the green-eyed rogue with hair as black as midnight. How could she submit to another man after she'd enjoyed Hawk's lovemaking? Their love had had its own unique design, one that could never be duplicated.

  No, she could not love again when the very essence of her would remain locked in this secluded mountain cabin.

  That despairing thought made her impulsively clutch Hawk to her.

  When he came to her, catching her cry of rapture in his mouth, taking her into space, Rozalyn surrendered her soul to him, and, momentarily, the tormenting thoughts that had crept from the shadows of her mind were forgotten. This was her reason for being, giving and sharing her love. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, the love would have short life, but its flight was spectacular. On velvet wings it skimmed the earth and then gracefully drifted aloft on a current of wind, dipping, diving, sailing as if its flight would continue forever. . . .

  And so it was to be, through the winter and the rebirth of spring. The harsh cold of the high mountains did not dampen the beauty of their ill-fated love, which grew more precious and meaningful with each passing months spinning a silken bond that blocked out their grim future. This was their time for loving, and it was magnificent, like the sun sparkling on the blanket of snow that cloaked the majestic Mountains of the Wind.

  Chapter 23

  A muddled frown captured Hawk's brow when he stepped onto the stoop and saw Rozalyn lying in the snow, moving her arms and legs in exaggerated sweeping motions. "What the devil are you doing?" he asked, then laughed incredulously.

  Rozalyn raised her head and grinned impishly. "I'm making angels in the snow," she informed him, then bounded to her feet to display her efforts. Gesturing about her, Rozalyn indicated several celestial imprints in the fluffy snow.

  Hawk chuckled at her playfulness. It was one of the many things he adored about his free-spirited enchantress. Because of it, when she was with him, there was never a dull moment, and Rozalyn had seemed even more lively the past few months. Hawk basked in the warmth of her love; then, shaking his head at her silliness, he strode off the porch. But when he attempted to pull her into his arms, she fell backward to create another angel in the snow.

  He frowned disappointedly as Rozalyn peered up at him with dancing blue eyes. "Don't you want to help me? Surely imprints of angels will ward off the evil spirits the Indians believe to be lurking in the mountains."

  "I'm a grown man." Hawk sniffed distastefully. "I have better things to do than make childish snowprints."

  "Oh?" One perfectly arched eyebrow lifted as she regarded his haughty stance. "like what, for instance, monsieur?"

  A grin of roguish anticipation spread across Hawk's clean-shaven face, and he strode closer, his dark shadow eventually falling over the playful nymph who was frolicking in the snow. "Things that separate boys from men. Why would I wish to make angels when I could be making love!" Rozalyn's light-hearted laughter rang through the crisp air as Hawk straddled her, pressing her deeper into the snow. "Mmmm . . . this is more to my liking," he growled seductively. Pinning her arms above her head, he nibbled at her frosty lips, making them melt beneath his. "These are the things a man does while boys are off playing. ..."

  Rozalyn squirmed beneath Hawk, her movements arousing him rather than discouraging him. "Where is you
r youthful spirit?" she taunted. "You will grow old before your time if you do not allow yourself the simple pleasures in life."

  "My youthful spirit is here," Hawk murmured as he settled himself full length upon her. "She has been my companion these past few months, my constant source of amusement and pleasure."

  "And you are squashing her flat," Rozalyn giggled. "Unhand me, sir. I came to frolick in the snow, not to be buried in it."

  Reluctantly, Hawk pulled himself up on his knees, only to have Rozalyn vault to her feet. With a bubble of laughter, she gave him an abrupt shove that sent him sprawling and evoked a startled squawk. Her giddy laughter danced on the breeze as she bounded away, leaving Hawk staring up at the early morning sun. Rolling to his feet, he raced after her in fast pursuit, swearing to get even with her for her prank.

  Rozalyn yelped when she found herself scooped from the ground and hurled into a tall drift, and before she could fight her way through the snow, Hawk lunged at her. The chill of being half-buried in snow evaporated when his body molded itself to hers. Her damp lashes fluttered up to view the boyish grin that cut deep lines into his swarthy features. Lord, how she loved him. They had laughed and loved away the winter in this secluded paradise, and just when she swore she couldn't fall any deeper in love with Hawk, he graced her with one of his charismatic smiles and she was even more lost to him. Suddenly realizing that within a few months, she'd never witness another of his radiant grins made her soul bleed.

  The playfulness vanished from her features. This was to be their last day at the cabin. Hawk had announced that they were traveling to Fort Cass and then on to Yellowstone to trap beaver in the spring. A desperate urgency to recapture the pleasure they had shared overwhelmed Rozalyn, and her arms slid around his waist. Drawing him closer, she kissed him heatedly.

  Hawk sensed her need, saw in her eyes a frantic hint of fear. "Don't look at me as if it were over, as if this dream were about to come to an end," he said huskily. "This wonderland is still ours, Roz. We have the spring. I will show you sights that exceed your wildest imagination and I will take you in my arms each night when darkness casts its mystical shadow on the mountains."

  "Do you promise, Hawk?" Her eyes were wide, like those of a young child anticipating an adventure that will live forever in memory. "Will we have other gloriously loving moments?"

  "Scores of them," he assured her before his mouth swooped down on hers, stealing her breath and chasing away her fears.

  As Rozalyn responded to his fiery kiss, the familiar weight of his sleek body forged into hers. The fire he kindled within her flared and sent her blood to simmering.

  "When we camp for the night, remind me to finish were we left off," Hawk murmured, his voice heavy with passion. Reluctantly, he withdrew, suddenly finding the winter chill hadn't been so noticeable when he was wrapped in Rozalyn's arms. "Damned if you don't have the uncanny knack of making me forget my purpose, minx." Hastily, he brushed off the snow that clung to her buckskin clad body.

  Her adoring eyes took in the dashing mountain man in the long buffalo-hide coat. "You are a fine one to speak of distraction," she teased, following his path through the heavy snow. "I was innocently forming angels in the snow to scare off evil spirits when I was bodily attacked by one."

  Like a sparrow hawk swooping down on its prey, Hawk jerked Rozalyn into his arms and then planted her on the back of her horse. "A devil, am I?" he snapped in mock irritation.

  "The devil himself," Roz declared.

  Hawk's hand leisurely glided over her thigh to caress her hip and then tunneled beneath her coat to make arousing contact with her bare flesh. Then a wicked grin rippled across his lips, displaying pearly white teeth. "Tonight . . . when we are huddled around the campfire, I will hear you beg for my so-called attack, cherie," he prophesied in a seductively low voice.

  Rozalyn felt herself grow warm and giddy inside as his roving hands wandered possessively over her. Her eyes remained upon him as he drew away and then swung into his saddle to sit straight and proud upon his steed. He looked like a god. The wild nobility in his dark features touched her soul and warmed her heart, and the confident way he carried himself stirred her emotions, bringing tears to her eyes as she followed him down the mountain. She turned in the saddle to get one last glimpse of the rustic cabin in the Mountains of the Wind. She was leaving a multitude of sweet memories behind. In her mind's eyes she could see them cuddled close by the fire, talking quietly together or sewing clothes from the animal skins they had hunted and cleaned. Hawk had taught her Indian games, and they had played them on leisurely days when weather permitted. He had told her of his life among the Crow and he'd spoken of the beliefs of his mother's people, holding her spellbound with his tales. They had roamed the mountains in search of game, had endured a ground blizzard in a small lean-to beneath a canopy of pines, had played cards during the long evenings, and had made wild sweet love during the nights.

  Hawk had touched her every emotion, and Rozalyn had learned to read his many moods. She knew when he was restless, wanting to wander, and when he craved no more than her silent presence beside him or the feel of her body molded to his. And Hawk had come to know when she needed to be left alone and when she longed to feel secure and protected in his embrace. They had grown together, learned the true meaning of love and companionship, and they rarely spoke of the upcoming summer. They had preferred to exist in their fairyland, living as if there were no tomorrow. Although the mountains were filled with danger, they also brought them contented peace. Rozalyn was no longer trying to change her destiny. She knew her father would insist that she return with him to St. Louis, and knowing that, she had seen to it that every hour she spent with Hawk was a cherished treasure.

  As they made their way down the snow-clogged ravines, she kept glancing back over her shoulder at the cabin, and she was dying a little inside. She knew she would never pass this way again and that tormenting thought was crushing her, leaving her no hope.

  Muffling a sniff and managing a meager smile, Rozalyn raised her face to Hawk's when he grasped her hand. His eyes drifted back in the direction her gaze had taken and he sighed heavily.

  "The memories are sweet, amie, the best. . . ." His pensive stare measured the towering aspens and pines that reached toward the clear morning sky. "But we have half a lifetime yet to live in the meadows of Yellowstone." His head came toward hers as he stretched across to press a light kiss to her responsive lips. "Don't leave me, Roz. Don't withdraw into the past, not yet. That time is coming soon enough."

  Mustering her courage, Rozalyn forced a wider smile, drawing upon his strenth, his ability to face the future without dwelling on the past. "Tell me about Fort Cass. Is it like Fort William?"

  Nudging his steed, Hawk led the way down the snow-covered slopes. "It is similar in some ways," he acknowledged, thankful Rozalyn had changed the subject. He didn't want to think about what they were leaving behind. His secluded cabin would become a sepulcher of forbidden memories all too soon. "The stockade was established in 1832. It is set on the meadow where the Big Horn River empties into the Yellowstone. The trading post was built to barter with the Crow." A wry smile pursed his lips when he glanced over at Rozalyn. Hawk drank in her natural beauty, which was evident despite her manly garb. One look into her flawless face and no one would be able to resist this gorgeous creature. "I expect you will meet some of my unruly friends when we reach the fort. We will rest there before setting our spring traps in the Yellowstone."

  "In the land of the magic springs? Where spirits dwell in the warm, steamy baths?" Rozalyn taunted. "I suppose my ear will be bent with more fantastic stories of glass mountains, boiling rivers, and talking beavers that befriend lonely trappers."

  Hawk chuckled at the skepticism in her voice. "No doubt you will. You know how superstitious we mountain men are."

  "And lusty," Rozalyn added with a mischievous grin. "Will I be in need of a large stick to fight off these mountain dragons?"

  That thought
soured Hawk's disposition. He could well imagine the reception that awaited Rozalyn when his rambunctious comrades laid eyes on a white woman, especially one as bewitching as she. Making a mental note, Hawk vowed to ensure that Rozalyn was well armed, in case she was swarmed by overzealous trappers at the fort.

  "Do not be surprised if such an event should occur," he warned. "My friends appreciate a beautiful woman and I cannot always hold myself responsible for their actions. But I have no doubt that you will be able to fend for yourself. You never had difficulty keeping me at a safe distance when we first met."

  I never had difficulty holding a man at bay until you came along, Rozalyn silently amended. If his idea of being stifled was to be denied pleasure for a day after making a lady's acquaintance, Rozalyn hated to venture a guess at the assaults she might anticipate from Hawk's rough-edged comrades. Sweet merciful heavens, she would need a suit of armor. As another thought crossed her mind, Rozalyn focused narrowed eyes on the handsome trapper who rode by her side.

  "What will you be doing while I am fighting off this swarm of men who have had very little association with white women in recent years? I suppose there is another Indian maiden waiting, at Fort Cass, to massage your weary muscles."

  "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" A roguish grin caught one corner of his mouth, curving it upward.

  "Do I have a reason to be jealous?" she asked point-blank.

  Hawk reined his steed to an abrupt halt. With one quick move he uprooted Rozalyn from her mount and transplated her onto his lap. The passionate kiss he proceeded to bestow on her left her body tingling with pleasure. "Does that answer your question?"