Captive Bride

by Carol Finch

  "You are never coming back to the mountains?" Hawk was astounded.

  The crusty mountain man's gaze swung to the noble chief of the Crow to exchange a silent message before he returned his attention to his son. "I will be back one day," he assured him quietly. "My heart belongs to these majestic mountains."

  After the fleet forged from the shore to glide downstream with the current, the trappers headed toward the mountain meadows and the Crow returned to their hunting grounds. Rozalyn and Hawk stood alone on the bank of the Missouri. In silence they watched the keelboats disappear around the bend.

  Then a contented sigh escaped Rozalyn's lips. All was well with the world; she was with the man who had come to mean more to her than life. Her happy smile faded when Hawk suddenly turned and walked away, and a smidgen of red stained her cheeks as she glared at his departing back. She was not about to begin the first day of their life together following Hawk's lead without knowing his destination. Had he already forgotten his promise to inform her of his intentions before he wandered off?

  "Now wait just a minute, Hawk Baudelair," Rozalyn declared. "I am not following after you until I know where we are going. I can tolerate many things, but I will not tolerate being taken for granted!"

  Hawk had anticipated her reaction, but he was not about to divulge his purpose. Without breaking stride, he moved toward his steed to retrieve the gift that had remained in his saddlebag for more than eight months. After extracting the gold band inlaid with emeralds and sapphires, Hawk pivoted around to display his expensive token of love.

  "Before we left St. Louis last fall, I sent a letter to your grandmother, informing her that you would be safe in my custody and that her wish would come true." Hawk grinned sheepishly while Rozalyn stood there, staring speechlessly at him. "For a while I thought I had told Lenore a lie." Hawk moved deliberately toward Rozalyn and then placed the ring on her finger. "Although there has been no formal ceremony, we have long been man and wife. In the Crow village, a man has only to enter the tepee of his beloved and consummate their love. In my grandfather's eyes, we have been man and wife since the night I came to you on the shores of Green River." His soft, velvety voice whispered across her cheek, sending a chill through her. "In my eyes, we have been bound together since the first night I came to your room, by a compelling need no other woman has been able to satisfy. I love you, Roz, even more now than I did then. Will you be disappointed if we dispense with the conventional ceremony until we return to St. Louis?" Hawk asked, his hand cupping her chin to peer straight into the blue eyes that had long captivated him.

  Rozalyn gave her head a negative shake. "My grandmother always said I was too unconventional for civilization. I fear she is right. We don't need an audience to speak the words that bind us together.”

  Hawk stepped back to flash Rozalyn a roguish smile. "And now, madame, in answer to your request to know my destination . . ." Recklessly, Hawk peeled off his shirt, exposing his copper skin and the broad expanse of his chest. "I am going to paradise. Are you coming with me or must I make the journey alone." His smile faded, to be replaced by an expression of blatant longing as his hungry gaze ravished her, leaving her to burn in the heat that radiated from his emerald eyes. "Must I remind you how long it's been since we have made love?"

  A seductive smile rippled across her lips, and Rozalyn drew the squaw dress over her head, tossed it aside, and then sauntered toward the handsome adventurer who was devouring her with his gaze. "Two weeks and three days," she murmured. Her throaty voice flooded over him like an arousing caress.

  When she molded her softness to him and her silky arms glided around his shoulders, Hawk groaned in sweet torment. He had come dangerously close to losing Rozalyn. Now more than ever he realized how much he valued her.

  "Though the winds may change and the winter storms may rage, one thing is constant," Rozalyn whispered, raising parted lips. "I will go on loving you forever. There has never been another man, there could never be. You are the one who taught my soul to sing."

  When her lips melted like rose petals beneath his impatient kiss, the wilderness faded into a hazy fog. They touched and caressed, silently expressing the love that had blossomed and grown until living separate lives seemed inconceivable. They had become of one in heart and soul, each incomplete without the other.

  Hawk moved against her, his body fully aroused and instinctively responding to hers. His worshipping caresses made her tremble, and not once, but over and over again, he tasted and explored the sensitive points of her flesh, evoking passionate responses. And when he came to her, his lovemaking made her cry out his name. As the dark world careened about her, Rozalyn clung to the powerful mountain man who had led her through hell to the rapturous bliss of heaven, and this time she knew she would never have to let him go. They had changed their destiny, had been granted love instead of emptiness. Now they shared emotions that eluded all except a select few. Their strong wills and relentless determination had flung open the gates to heaven and together they walked in paradise. They were one, belonging, possessing, giving and taking the pleasures of love.

  Hawk could not imagine that any other man and woman shared such fierce, engulfing emotions, and he knew no man could be happier than he was at this moment. As a quiet thought trickled through his fogged mind, he clutched Rozalyn closer, nuzzling his face against the trim column of her neck, inhaling the subtle feminine fragrance that scented his dreams. Once, many years ago, in the Valley of the Elk, another man and woman had known so great a love, but tragedy had cut their paradise short. Hawk vowed to himself that he and Rozalyn would enjoy what his mother and father had lost, the pleasure Aubrey had spent a lifetime trying to forget. No matter what trials they encountered, they would confront them together, joining forces to emerge the victors. And through it all, a silken bond that even the sharpest of knives couldn't sever would bind them, and it would grow stronger with the years.

  "I love you, cherie amie," Hawk murmured, overwhelmed by the intense sensations holding Rozalyn aroused.

  “And I love you, Hawk. In your arms I can soar forever. ..."

  And soar she did. Her hushed words rekindled the flame that nothing could extinguish. It fed on emotions that bubbled like an eternal spring. And somewhere, beyond the wide Missouri, above the whispering Wind River Mountains a new legend of love came to be. It was passed through the bivouacs of trappers who gathered to weave tales of life in the majestic mountains and in the camp of the Crow who were certain that the little bird that discovered the world had spread its wings in flight to lead these lovers onto the towering summit that scraped the clouds of paradise.

  Epilogue

  John Chadwell looked as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning when he answered the impatient rap on the front door of the Baudelair mansion. ''Lyndon Baudelair, is that you?" he squeaked. His wide, incredulous eyes swung to Mosley who stood beside the man who was garbed in buckskins.

  "It is no other," Bear-Claw chuckled, attempting to adjust to his given name, one he had not heard uttered in almost twenty years. "May I come in?"

  Chadwell moved out of the entrance to allow the master of the house to brush past him. "I never thought I'd live to see the day you came down from the mountains to return home."

  Grinning mischievously, Mosley wedged his way inside. "The master has news about Dominic and the young lass he made off with last year," he informed the bedazzled butler.

  Absently, Lyndon Baudelair ambled through the spacious home, reacquainting himself with rooms through which he had strolled as a young man. "My son and his wife are alive and well, living in their mountain cabin in Wyoming Territory," Lyndon explained, as he paused to stroke the plush velvet drapes that hung on the study window.

  "His wife?" Chadwell chirped like a sick sparrow. His wild eyes flew to Mosley who was beaming smugly. "Do you mean to tell me young Dominic married Rozalyn DuBois?"

  "That is exactly what he is telling you," Mosley confirmed. Then he discreetly stretched out
his hand and patiently waited for Chadwell to pay the bet they had made the night Dominic had thundered off with his lovely hostage.

  Grumbling, Chadwell fished into his pocket and begrudgingly tossed Mosley a twenty-dollar goldpiece. He silently vowed that was the last bet he would ever make. Never had he expected Dominic Baudelair, that free-spirited adventurer, to take a wife, especially one as feisty and unpredictable as Rozalyn DuBois. But then stranger things had happened, Chadwell reminded himself, returning his attention to the shaggy-haired man who stood peering out the window. Chadwell would have bet his last dollar that Lyndon Baudelair would never return to civilization after such a lengthy absence. But here he was, poised at the window of the study, looking slightly out of place in buckskins that were the worse for wear afer his long trip down the Missouri.

  "Fetch me a bottle of our finest wine," Lyndon requested, and after testing the tufted rocker he planted himself in it. Keen eyes scanned the elaborately decorated room that was so unlike the rustic shack in which he had hibernated for so many years. "I would like to toast the newly married couple's happiness."

  When Mosley and Chadwell scurried from the study to alert the servants of their former master's return and to retrieve the wine, Lyndon unfolded himself from the soft chair and leaned against the window. He could not quite adjust to the sprawling city and its throng of inhabitants. That would take a while.

  As his gaze drifted to the western horizon, a tender smile mellowed his rugged features. In his mind's eye, he could see Hawk and Rozalyn standing on the riverbank while the fleet of keelboats made its way downstream. "Wherever the two of you are, I can rest easy, for I know you have found life's grandest pleasure. May it last forever. ..."

  Before reentering the study, Mosley raised a graying eyebrow and leaned close to the sulking Chadwell. "Would you like to bet the master of Baudelair mansion won't last a year in civilization? Twenty dollars says he will be aboard the next steamer that navigates the Missouri."

  "I've sworn off betting," Chadwell grumbled, glaring at the goldpiece Mosley was flipping in the air. "I've already paid the one bet I saw no conceivable way to lose. Go rob some other blundering fool. I can't imagine Lyndon Baudelair remaining in St. Louis. He may be with us for a short time, but a return to the mountains is inevitable."

  Mosley tucked the goldpiece in his pocket and poured three drinks. Admiring his long-time friend, he watched Lyndon Baudelair lift his glass in toast.

  "To love . . ." Lyndon mumured softly. "And to the mountains where such emotion can flourish without distraction."

  Three glasses clinked and then each man took a small sip before Lyndon Baudelair settled back in his plush chair. He was enjoying a peace he had not felt in years. At long last he and Aubrey had buried their bitterness, and to bring him further contentment, Lyndon had seen the look of devoted affection in his son's eyes when Hawk had gazed at Rozalyn. The pair had found the rare, elusive pleasure that had been Lyndon's for a time. He prayed their life together would be a long, blissful one, and he promised himself if Rozalyn and Hawk did not return before the following summer, he had every intention of setting out to find them.

  A low rumble of laughter echoed in his chest as he remembered the two weeks he had spent in Hawk's cabin, forcing the star-crossed lovers to keep a respectable distance. Hawk had been like a man stretched on a torture rack, and Rozalyn had been as nervous as a caged cat. But wherever they were at the moment, Lyndon speculated that neither man nor beast would keep those strong-willed lovers apart. Some things in life could not be changed; Hawk and Rozalyn's fierce need for each other was one of them. Their attraction was so compelling that no amount of adversity could keep them apart. Lyndon would have sworn Hawk was fighting a lost cause, but the young mountain man had never been able to accept defeat. And in the end, Hawk had had his own way, despite the obstacles he had confronted.

  Rose Blossom would have been proud of her son and of the bewitching young beauty who had stolen his heart, Lyndon thought. Then, in a silent toast, he sipped the fine French wine and savored memories of another time and of a young Crow maiden who had given meaning to his life. What he and Rose Blossom could not share, Hawk and Rozalyn would. Lyndon sighed contentedly. He knew what Hawk would be feeling while he waded across a clear mountain stream with Roz one step behind him or when, camped in the plush meadows, he fell asleep with his woman in his arms. Lyndon had known the joys of love. And now it was time for his son to begin his life, a life that had been incomplete until Hawk had met the free-spirited sprite with lively blue eyes and shiny raven hair.

  Aubrey DuBois trudged up the steps to Lenore Rabelais' home, as he had every night since he'd returned from rendezvous. The conflict between them had evaporated when the grande dame had learned that her granddaughter had wed Dominic with Aubrey's blessing. Although Aubrey found a certain comfort in taking up Rozalyn's task of visiting the beldame, he was always assaulted by the same question each time he ventured to the mansion. Tonight would be no different, he predicted.

  "Well, have you any news?" Lenore asked the moment Aubrey set foot in the door. "Here I am, practically on my death bed and that inconsiderate granddaughter of mine has yet to return from the mountains. I knew she would be content in the wilderness, but I didn't dream she would neglect her own family! My last wish is to see her and that handsome husband of hers before I retire from this life."

  Biting back a grin, Aubrey arched a taunting eyebrow and poured himself his usual drink. "Oh? I thought your last dying request was to hold your great-grandchild. Have you decided to settle for merely laying eyes on Rozalyn after her two-years absence?"

  Grumbling, Lenore snatched away Aubrey's drink and downed it herself. "They promised to return to St. Louis a month ago and I have yet to see them walk through that door. I am prone to believe they sent the message only to frustrate me."

  "Perhaps you should send word that you may not last another month, that ploy almost worked the first time you concocted it," Aubrey teased, planting himself on the sofa beside his fidgeting mother-in-law. "As I recall, you had Rozalyn convinced that you had reservations on the heavenly chariot and she was willing to do anything to pacify you."

  "I was desperate," Lenore muttered, annoyed that Aubrey was mocking her in her present mood. "That child needed a husband to control her. Mon dieu, nothing else seemed to hobble her wild ways. And now that she is wed, I have yet to see . . ." Her voice trailed off when she heard the rustling of skirts and quiet murmurings in the hall, and the color gushed form Lenore's cheeks when she swiveled around in her seat to see her long-lost granddaughter appear at the door. "Oh, my . . ." Lenore's breath came out in a rush when she glanced from Hawk's and Rozalyn's beaming faces to the tiny bundle nestled in his father's arms.

  "The lad has his great-grandmother's disposition," Aubrey declared, and he snickered when the infant squawked and squirmed in Hawk's arms.

  "Pish-posh," Lenore flung at Aubrey before she sprang to her feet to unveil the fussing infant.

  While Lenore doted over her great-grandson, Rozalyn looked up into Hawk's handsome face. There, in the colorful depths of his emerald eyes was the warm flicker of love that stirred her soul. She melted against him when he slipped his arm about her and hugged her close, but merely being cuddled in his protective arms was not enough. Their journey down the Missouri upon a cramped keelboat had allowed them no privacy, and Rozalyn had been deprived of his tender touch and passionate kisses during her recuperation from childbirth. She could tell by the expression on Hawk's face that he was suffering from the same deprivation that plagued her.

  "Do you suppose Grand'mere would notice if we slipped away to spend a few moments alone?" she whispered against Hawk's cheek.

  A grin of roguish anticipation stretched across Hawk lips, and his wandering hand mapped the shapely curve of Rozalyn's hips. "She didn't notice that I was seducing her granddaughter right before her eyes, why would she notice our absence when she is so distracted by her great-grandson?"

&nbs
p; "Why indeed?" Rozalyn purred, already aroused by her husband's skillful touch.

  When they had sneaked upstairs and closed the door to one of Lenore's spare bedrooms, Hawk wasted no time doffing the stylish clothing he had donned for his visit to the grande dame.

  "Really, monsieur," Rozalyn taunted, her gaze flitting over his sinewy torso. "You are much too eager. A gentleman would find a more refined tactic for luring his lover to bed."

  Stark-naked, Hawk strutted across the room and snatched Rozalyn to him, his nimble fingers making fast work of unfastening the stays on the back of her pink silk gown. "A gentleman never did stand a chance of getting anywhere with a fesity nymph like you," he growled seductively. "And although I have been everywhere with you, there is one place we have been forced to avoid these past few months." Scooping Rozalyn into his arms, Hawk made a beeline for the bed. "I am not a patient man when it comes to seeking what I want. And what I want at the moment . . ."

  Thought deserted them when they tumbled onto the sheets, their bodies eager to express a love that had not dimmed. Their gnawing hunger drew them together in a passionate embrace, and they almost devoured each other. Tenderness returned in the aftermath of love-making, however, and though time had flitted by, Hawk was in no hurry to fly from his nest and return downstairs. Perhaps he was being inconsiderate in keeping Rozalyn to himself when Lenore had not seen her granddaughter for more months than she cared to count, but it seemed forever since he had nestled in the loving circle of her arms.

  "We should join my father and grandmother," Rozalyn insisted, her voice heavy from the aftereffect of passion.

  "We should , . ." Hawk agreed, bending to press his lips to her sweet mouth. "And my father will be arriving shortly."

  "He is probably already here," Rozalyn commented between feathery kisses. Impulsively, her arm looped around Hawk, bringing his body into intimate contact with hers. She wasn't certain she could drag herself away from the magic circle of Hawk's arms just yet.