Dillman's men had already dismounted, Skylar saw. They carried large saddlepacks, which two of men now started to open. She saw that they contained bows and arrows.
"Brad, are you having us killed by Crow or Sioux?" she asked him.
She felt the knife digging at her.
"Sioux," he said flatly after a minute. "I thought it was a nice touch."
"I'm not going in there," Sabrina said stubbornly.
Skylar glanced at her sister, then at Hawk, still standing in front of her. His expression gave away so little, but he suddenly smiled slightly to her. He inclined his head just a little to the east.
"Remember when we first came here, Skylar?" he said.
She stared at him blankly. She'd certainly never thought of him as being a sentimental man. Wild, passionate, hot- tempered, occasionally startlingly tender...
But not sentimental.
"Yes..."
"Remember how we came to be here?"
She frowned.
"Lord Douglas, this is touching, really," Brad Dillman said impatiently, "but unless you want to watch her blood flow quickly, it's time to move."
"Yes, move into the cabin," Hawk said.
"I'm not going!" Sabrina repeated stubbornly.
Skylar kept looking at Hawk. How they had come to be here that day ...
An Indian attack. He had dressed up. With Willow, Ice Raven, and Blade . ..
Willow!
Was he out there somewhere? Did Hawk know it? Had he heard the call of a dove on the air and known that it was not a dove?
Perhaps she didn't understand him quickly enough; Sloan did. He strode for Sabrina and dragged her down from Ma- cy's mount. "We're going in."
"I'm not, I—"
"Keep quiet!" Sloan insisted, his arms about her waist, Sabrina hanging from his hip as he strode for the cabin door, throwing it open.
"Let me go, you oaf! Skylar!"
As if Skylar could help her in any way!
"The damned army is doing us in, Skylar!" Sabrina shrieked.
Hawk ignored the frantic cries Sabrina let out. He stared up at Dillman. "I'll walk to the cabin door. Then I want Skylar released to me. Understood."
"I can't see any harm in you fools dying in one another's arms," Dillman said pleasantly.
Hawk started for the cabin. Skylar saw that Macy and George were keeping their guns trained on her and the others while Dillman's "aides" were getting ready to light arrows on fire and shoot them into the cabin.
Hawk stepped through the cabin door. He turned to face them, standing in the doorway.
"Let Skylar go!"
Dillman shoved her. Prepared for his action, Skylar clung to the horse's neck as she fell downward, keeping herself from plummeting to the ground. She had a strange feeling that this was all or nothing now. If she had a chance to live, she wouldn't be able to make the most of it with a sprained ankle or a broken wrist.
She started walking toward the cabin. Macy remained right behind her, a gun trained on her back. Skylar kept her eyes on Hawk's. He met hers in return, the green fire in them encouraging her all the way.
She reached him. He put his hands on her shoulders, drew her very close against him, cradling her head. He might have been whispering love words.
"When I let you go now, get down. Flat on the ground, understand?"
"But they'll shoot you—"
"Skylar, love, honor, and obey right now, please?"
"I—"
"I love you, Skylar."
"Oh, God—I love you. I love you so much. I—"
He started to twist her around. He did so with such speed and energy that it hadn't really been necessary for him to tell her to get down; she all but fell on the floor. And in those few seconds, he had gone for a knife. A knife sheathed in buckskin against the boots at his calf.
It flew with staggering speed and landed straight in Ma- cy's heart. For a few seconds, the giant of a killer stood there, about to reach for the knife, absolutely stunned to realize that he was mortally injured.
And even as he fell, Hawk let out a tremolo before jumping before the fallen man, going flat himself to grasp Macy's weapon, a repeating rifle, before rolling into the brush.
Bullets were suddenly flying everywhere. Skylar let out a screech, covering her head. A burning arrow sizzled into a beam directly over her.
Sloan was above her, trying to draw her from the line of fire. She heard war cries screeching all around her. Sioux cries, the terrifying sound they let out before bearing down on their enemies.
"Get in!" Sloan commanded her. She saw that he'd found a rifle by the hearth. As he dragged her in, he thrust it toward Sabrina. "Get shells, load it!"
"I'll shoot you!" Sabrina retorted, but she had the rifle in her hands, and was digging into a wooden box of ammunition even as she spoke.
Another shot tore into the cabin. Sabrina screeched, and shoved the rifle at Sloan. He took it. Skylar looked up, gasping. A half dozen arrows had made it into the cabin. Smoke was billowing all around them.
It was going to burn.
"We've got to get out," Sloan shouted.
Skylar came to her feet. Sabrina balked. "We'll be shot; we can't go—"
"Damn it, we've got to get out!" Sloan repeated. Skylar was stunned when he grabbed her sister furiously by the arm, dragging her up.
Skylar shrieked, seeing that George had leaped into the burning cabin. His rifle was aimed at Sloan.
A shot exploded. Sloan didn't go down. George did.
Skylar saw Hawk standing behind him. She let out a glad cry, starting to race toward him. But even as she did, she saw Dillman directly behind her husband. He was raising his rifle.
"No!" she shrieked.
Hawk fell and rolled with lightning-quick reflexes. Dill- man's first shot went off, hitting the wall. He didn't seem to realize that the cabin was burning, that fiery timber was beginning to fall everywhere. He started for Skylar, taking aim with his rifle once again.
"Bastard!" she shrieked. He was going to kill her. It had come to this. She was going to die. But he wasn't going to get away with it. Hawk would kill him. And at long last, everyone would know the truth about Brad Dillman.
Despite the gun, she leaped for him. She slammed against him just as the gun fired. They went down on the ground together.
She felt no pain.
Dillman was screaming.
Skylar, dazed by the fall and the swirl of smoke she continued to breathe, realized dimly that Brad Dillman's rifle had misfired. Perhaps it had gotten too hot. Perhaps he'd had faulty cartridges. But the weapon had failed to discharge properly. She was alive, and he was screeching in pain. Because there was a knife in his chest. Hawk had thrown it to keep Dillman from shooting Skylar. And as he had fallen, the knife had been pressed further and further into his body . . .
Skylar hadn't the sense at that moment to scramble to
her feet. She just stared at Dillman. He was really dying. He was in great pain.
He stared at her. "I should have killed you with your old man. Nits make lice." He started to laugh. He choked on his own blood.
She was suddenly wrenched up in strong arms. Hawk's arms. He carried her out of the cabin.
Macy was dead on the ground where he had fallen. The two aides had been hit by rifle fire.
Willow, Ice Raven, and Blade were mounted before the cabin, waiting, watching the fire.
Sabrina was on her knees, smudged, sooty, trying to breathe. Sloan, in similar condition, stood by her side. Skylar realized he had pulled her sister from the flames.
She realized that somehow they had all known that she and Hawk would come from the blaze as well.
Just as they had somehow known that they were needed.
"Thank you," Hawk said simply.
Willow shrugged. "We wanted to play Indian with you once again."
"But how—"
"Crazy Horse had a vision," Ice Raven told him.
"And Henry Pierpont told us where th
ey were taking you."
Hawk smiled. "Ah."
Skylar felt his eyes touch down upon her. "Let's go home," he said. She nodded. She leaned more closely against him.
"All the monsters are slain!" she agreed softly.
It had probably been the most horrible day of her life.
She had never felt better.
Skylar convinced Ice Raven and Blade to stay with them just one night; she understood their need to be free Indians, but she was so grateful to them both, and they were her relatives through Hawk, and she wanted them to know that she would always be there for them as well.
At Mayfair, though she was somewhat bruised and bat- tered herself, her energy level seemed astounding. She arranged with Meggie, Sandra, and the others to get all their guests to rooms, prepare baths, find clothing, and arrange a meal. She and Hawk were both delighted to discover that Meggie had proclaimed Henry much better than anyone might have imagined; the bullet had traveled cleanly through him. He was going to have to stay in bed for a few days, but he was just incredibly proud of himself, and he didn't mind being bedridden because Sandra was doting on him.
Sandra, in turn, informed them that she found lawyers to be wonderful men.
They had a fine dinner that evening, Skylar and Hawk, Sloan, Sabrina, Willow, Ice Raven and Blade. They'd sent for the military, determined to tell the entire story to the general and see to it that the truth about Dillman was made public for the world to know. Skylar was especially happy to feel that at long last justice had been done for her father.
It was very late when Hawk and Skylar were at last free to retire.
To her room.
Their room. She felt it now, as soon as they entered together. As soon as he closed the door. As soon as he cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her lips. Warmly. Fully. Passionately.
They fell upon the bed together. Kissing. Struggling somewhat in their haste to remove one another's clothes.
"Are you all right? Truly? I know he drew blood today—" Hawk began.
"I'm not hurt."
"I wouldn't hurt you further—"
"I'm not hurt! I'm alive, I'm well—we've got to build another cabin."
"I thought you hated the cabin."
"I loved the cabin."
"It burned."
"With my past!" Skylar breathed, finally undoing the last button of his shirt, meeting his eyes, and pressing her lips against his chest.
"I'll be happy to build another cabin. I thought you hated it because I... well, I rather forced you that night—"
She shook her head solemnly. Then smiled with a silver glitter in her eyes. "I had dreams of you ravishing me there again."
He groaned. "I'll build quickly," he promised. His lips found hers again.
"How strange. How sad, though. Sloan and Sabrina don't seem to get on well at all."
"Maybe they just haven't had a chance to get to know one another," Hawk suggested.
"Maybe. Oh, well... Hawk, we won't let the Sioux take any blame for what happened today. I mean, truly, there's no way that they can be involved, right? Ice Raven kept telling me that it wouldn't matter, that it would put an end to things—"
"There will be no blame upon the Sioux for Dillman's evil; you needn't worry," Hawk said, triumphant as he tugged her pantalettes from her. With them both naked at last, he bounded atop her, the fullness of his flesh rubbing against hers. He sighed with both contentment and growing ardor.
"Hawk, what will happen?" she asked suddenly, both her hands in his dark hair.
"Now? I'm going to kiss and lick you all over. You're going to writhe in ecstasy and ask me to be with you forever."
"No, no—"
"Yes, yes!"
"With the Sioux, I mean."
He sobered, lightly kissing her forehead and her lips. "I don't know. The future will be painful; that I can see. Will you be with me, all the way through it?"
"All the way. Forever."
"Even though you entered the West through a Sioux attack?" "Especially because I entered the West through a Sioux attack," she assured him softly.
He hesitated suddenly, strangely. "Even if we have to take a trip away?"
"A trip, away?"
"Even if I'm not—Lord Douglas?"
"What?" she gasped, leaping away from him, her eyes filled with alarm. "You—you mean after all this, you're not Andrew Douglas; we're not married—"
He smiled ruefully, shaking his head, catching her hand and drawing her back against him. "Come here, wench!"
"Now wait—"
"We are really, truly, absolutely, irrevocably wed."
"Then—"
"Then truthfully, we may not be Lord and Lady Douglas. In fact, I pray that we are not."
She stared at him blankly. "Hawk—"
"Skylar, I had a brother who died in Scotland years ago. Or so we thought. I've recently had a communication from someone supposedly in his employ."
"Recently?"
"At Henry's office, the day we went into Gold Town."
"Oh! And all this time I thought Henry might have found out things about me to tell you!"
Hawk had to smile again. He shook his head. "No, my love, you made me discover all that I know about you the hard way."
She was frowning. "Hawk, I'd hate for you to hope that your brother was alive if someone was playing a cruel trick for jest or gain. How can you think—"
"This fellow had a family heirloom—a ring my brother David always wore—to give me, and I was asked to meet a man at a particular place on Douglas property. Yes, this could be a wretched hoax. It most probably is. But Skylar, I loved my brother. I have to find out."
"We have to find out."
"I've already dragged you through Sioux country—"
"I shall gladly be dragged through Scotland." "Even to give up the title?" he queried lightly.
She smiled slowly, pressed her lips to his, whispered against them. "I'm Hawk's wife. Nothing else means anything."
He kissed her passionately in turn. Lifted his lips just slightly from hers. "I never wanted a wife and now ... oh, God, am I grateful to my father! Skylar, I love you. I cannot remember life without you, and I never want life without you again."
"Oh, God, that's lovely."
"That's all you have to say?"
She shook her head. "I love you. Oh, God, I love you. I—I—" She shook her head again, slightly embarrassed by the emotion overwhelming her. "I adore you!" she whispered. "Don't you even begin to think about going anywhere without me in the future—into Sioux country, across the sea, into hell itself."
He groaned, holding her. "I'll never leave you."
"Perhaps we can leave Sloan and Sabrina to look after things here."
"Perhaps we can."
"Perhaps ..."
"Perhaps..."
"Oh, God, who cares right now! Hawk, I love you so much. Whatever lies in the days ahead, we'll meet together. Tonight, I'm just so grateful... What was that you were saying before we got sidetracked about the immediate future?"
"I was saying ... never mind. It's much easier to just show you," he whispered, his green eyes afire with passion, promise, and love.
She felt his touch .. .
Lips, hands, upon her. Fiercely demanding, hot, tender, caressing, encompassing.
And she knew.
They would weather all the fires and storms that lay ahead of them with one another, believing in one another.
Man and wife.
A damned strange marriage, she thought. And a damned fine one .. .
And then... she thought no more. She was far too busy being ravished by a half-breed and doing her absolute very best to prove her love to him in turn. Ah . . . did she like the nights!
No Other Man Page 36
