by Jillian Hart
Confusion swirled around her. She took a wobbly step. “Papa, don’t talk about him like that. Night Hawk is the man I love.”
“He won’t marry you, Marie. Mark my words.” Henry slammed one fist against the wall, rattling the paintings in their frames. “Those people aren’t like us. They don’t always marry in church. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll allow you to live with him. Be his squaw or some such nonsense. Is that what you want?”
“I can’t listen to you.” This was her father? The man she’d adored her entire life? She’d worked to earn his love. She’d agonized over not being good enough. She even came here to teach English at his fort, just to make him proud of her.
And this man was so ugly beneath the uniform? He was no great colonel. He wasn’t even a decent man. Disgusted, she grabbed the bedpost for support. Hurt, disappointment and shock all melded together, forever ruining the joy she’d felt.
“This is not the end of the world, Papa.” She held her chin firm and willed her stomach not to flutter. “You’ll see.”
“Walk out that door and you won’t be welcome back. In this house or in my settlement.” He sounded as cold as a northern glacier, once again the colonel. “Ever.”
“You don’t mean that.” He couldn’t. Somewhere deep inside, she’d always believed he loved her. Or had the capacity to love her. “You’re hurt, and I understand—”
“Hurt?” he raged. “I’m disgusted. Go to him or not, I don’t care. If you stay with him as his woman, or I haul you back to Ohio, you’re out of my sight either way.”
His mouth twisted as if in distaste. Then he turned his back on her and simply walked away.
The room spun too fast and she dropped to her knees.
Had she heard him right? Had he just disowned her? He never wanted to see her again?
He’s hurt. He’s angry. That’s all. She tried to make excuses, tried to cling to a little girl’s illusion. But the woman in her knew that Henry didn’t love her. He would never love her. Nothing in the world would ever touch his heart.
His cold, cruel, uncaring heart.
He was wrong about Night Hawk. Dead wrong. She believed that with the depth of her being.
Then why was she crying, a little voice inside her asked. Why hadn’t Night Hawk proposed to her before this? He’d had plenty of opportunity.
What if Henry was right?
She’d dropped to her knees twice on the way to the stable, waiting for the dizziness and nausea to subside. I have to get to Night Hawk. She repeated that thought over and over in her mind until the memory of his touch soothed her.
He had come to her at the dance. He’d twirled on the ice with her. His touch, his words, all told her of his love. He called her shaylee, his brightest star.
Papa’s wrong. He loves me. I know he does.
Kammeo nickered a welcome. At the sight of the mare eager to greet her, Marie cried out. She needed a friend right now. She wrapped her arms around Kammeo’s neck, and the mare pressed her nose to Marie’s cheek as if in comfort. As if to say, of course everything will be all right. Night Hawk will want you. You’ll see.
She had to believe it. Their love might be new, but it was true and it was strong. Every time they’d touched, it was like finding the perfect peace. The greatest happiness. They belonged together, and Night Hawk wasn’t like Henry. Night Hawk wouldn’t let her down.
He would welcome her in his arms and cradle her close. He would take her to his bed and love her until all the pain in her heart melted away. Until there was only the two of them, body to body, heart to heart, joined by their love. Their bright, precious love.
Holding that dream close, she found the strength to climb onto Kammeo’s back. Still in the stall and without a bridle, Marie leaned forward and clutched the mare’s fiery mane. “Take it easy on me, girl. Take me to Night Hawk.”
The mare nickered, well remembering the man who’d raised her. The mare seemed to understand her, ambled slowly through the stall door and into the aisle.
The dizziness had been bad before, but mounted on a moving horse made it ten times worse. The mare’s rocking gait was like being awash at sea—up and down, up and down. Marie groaned and buried her face in the mare’s neck.
Think of Night Hawk. She pictured the joy that would soften his dear face when she told him their news. She imagined how he would cradle her in his arms. The thought of his strong, unyielding chest felt like an anchor in her topsy-turvy world.
“Marie!” Night Hawk’s voice. Night Hawk’s moccasins whispering across the straw-strewn floor. It was his familiar touch that hauled her off the mare’s back. “What’s wrong? You look ready to fall down.”
“It’s really you. What are you doing here?”
“McGee asked me to show him how I shoe.” Night Hawk frowned as he studied her, then he hauled her against his chest. “You still look very ill. What are you doing out of bed?”
“I had to see you.” Her voice cracked with emotion, and she closed her eyes, afraid the tears balled in her throat would dissolve into endless pain. “Alone. I have to—”
“Shh.” A man’s comfort. A man’s love. “Come. I’ll find us a private place.”
Marie felt the last of her energy leave her. She clutched his shirt with both hands. The buckskin was velvet soft beneath her fingertips, warmed by Night Hawk’s heat. She leaned into his strength, not noticing what he said to the new captain. Only that his voice vibrated straight through her, as if they were one.
He loves me. I know he does. Her heart felt near to breaking, that’s how much love she had for him. For this man she could rely on when everything in her life had shattered into unrecognizable pieces. She’d lost her home, her father, her family and probably her job. But she had this man. This wonderful, amazing man.
“Hold on, shaylee.” He scooped her into his arms with ease and cradled her against his chest like a child. “There is no color at all to your skin. I should take you back to your bed.”
“No. Not to Papa.” She burrowed against the strong column of Night Hawk’s neck. He was her anchor now, her home and her life. “Please, Night Hawk.”
“As you wish.” His lips grazed her brow with tenderness.
Her heart soared. His love was all she wanted. The only haven she’d ever known, and she needed him now more than she’d ever needed anyone.
She clung to him as he lifted her onto Kammeo’s back, then mounted behind her. He drew her onto his lap, cradling her once again. Her mighty warrior who would never hurt her.
He guided Kammeo out the back door and down the short path by the small gate. He unlocked it, never letting her go. She felt every ripple of his muscles as he moved. She loved the bunch and pull of power beneath her touch and the reliable beat of his heart at her ear.
Then they were alone, behind the gate, with the winter forest crisp and new around them. Snow struck like tiny bits of heaven, sweet and light. This was where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. In Night Hawk’s arms. On these beautiful lands.
“Tell me what troubles you, shaylee.” He produced a blanket she hadn’t noticed and drew it around her. A soft Indian blanket woven with intricate care.
She ran her finger across the dark hawk in the pattern. Night Hawk’s family, she realized. He came from the Hawk clan. If she married him, she would become a Hawk, too. She hadn’t realized it before but somehow seeing the bird’s image made her stop. Made something real that hadn’t been before.
We are different, he and I. Different cultures, pasts and expectations. Something Henry said troubled her now. Those people aren’t like us. They don’t marry. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll allow you to live with him.
Night Hawk had never mentioned marriage.
“Tell me, Precious One.” His love enveloped her like velvet, rich and warm. A good man. An honorable man by anyone’s standards. “Something is wrong. There are tears gathering in your eyes.”
She wanted him to be a dream. A man she’d imagined all her
life. An all-conquering hero who would right every wrong just for her. Who would stand up to her father, give her a home, a name, love her unconditionally and above all else. A fairy-tale love imagined by a girl who’d been lonely and unloved all her life.
Night Hawk was a man and no dream. His power pulsed beneath her fingertips with every beat of his heart. He had vulnerabilities like any man. He was flesh and blood, muscle and bone and no fantasy. As great as he was, he was a man.
A man who had never spoken of marriage.
Tell him, her heart urged. He would be happy.
But he would not marry you, her mind argued and she remembered Henry’s warning.
“You seem so unhappy, Marie. Is it your father? Has he done something to hurt you?” Always stalwart, always true. Night Hawk held her as if she were the most precious woman on earth to him.
How could she tell him? What if he rejected her? What if he’d stopped dreaming of a life with her?
What if the dream had only been hers all along?
“Yes,” she mumbled into Night Hawk’s shirt. “Papa has upset me greatly.”
“He is a hard man, but he loves you.”
“That’s what I always believed.” She felt like the biggest fool, clinging to her lover when she couldn’t find a way to tell him the truth. He deserved to know.
Then she remembered how father had made her feel. Dirty. Shameful. Night Hawk would never treat her that way. Would he?
Tears burned behind her eyes but they wouldn’t fall. Telling him had been so easy when she imagined it. But now, she had doubts. Again, how very much reality and fantasy differed.
It’s time to grow up, Marie. She realized it, a great truth from her heart. It was time to accept the consequences of her actions. To stand on her own feet without leaning on anyone.
“Yes, it’s my father,” she said slowly. She released her hold on Night Hawk’s shirt, her fingers stiff from gripping him too tightly. She’d been hanging on for dear life. The world spun crazily, but she met Night Hawk’s gaze and the spinning slowed. “He knows about us.”
“I was afraid of something like this.” Tenderness, such tenderness. He brushed stray tendrils from her brow as if she were a child to be cared for.
When she was a woman responsible for her unborn baby’s life. “Papa took the news hard.”
“He disapproves. I had hoped—” Night Hawk’s face twisted as if in pain and he stared into the forest. He breathed in deeply, his wide chest lifting. She couldn’t interpret the shadows in his eyes and could only guess.
“I am not the man he wants for a son-in-law.” A muscle snapped in his rock-hard jaw. He held himself so stiffly he looked as if he were entirely made of stone.
Just as he had on the day she’d met him.
“Henry cares for his reputation most of all, you know that.” Marie steeled her spine. She was an adult now, grown-up, able to gather up the pieces of her sorrow with dignity.
“Let me guess. He no longer wishes you to see me.”
“No, he said I had to make a choice.” She waited, wondering what he would do. She would not cling to him like a needy girl.
“I see.” His throat worked as if he held much back. Tender words? Or relief, she wondered.
Did he want a wife? Or a bed partner? Even a man as noble as Night Hawk could break his word. Or decide when it came down to it that he didn’t want her. If Henry could admit to being prejudiced, then who knew what lurked dark and unseen in a man’s heart?
Only time would tell for sure.
“What is your choice, Marie?” He said the words harshly, as if he were angry with her. “What do you want?”
You, her soul cried out. “I don’t know,” she managed, knowing it was the wise answer. “I can’t decide these things alone because they concern you. Because what I do will affect you.”
He looked so hard, like a man who had lived and prospered in this harsh wilderness. A man who was part of the land, part of the wild. And yet she still loved him.
She always would.
The sky opened, and the snow fell in sharp, mean strikes. The air grew colder. The flakes drove at a harsh angle. She waited while Night Hawk gazed at the far horizon, as if an answer would be painted there by the wind.
Would he reject her? What would she do if her father was right? Was the love they shared too new and fragile? Or had it been only a dream?
“I would sacrifice anything to make you mine.” His confession surprised her. “Anything but your happiness.”
Say the words, she silently begged. She needed him to need her. She wanted him to reach out for her. To offer her the marriage she desperately wanted.
“I can wait for your decision.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. Tenderly he leaned his forehead against hers so they were eye-to-eye, face-to-face. She could see all the shadows in his heart.
He’s not going to propose. The realization weighed her down, so heavy that it took all her strength not to weep. The truth was, all along she’d been the one talking of marriage and wishing and dreaming.
A girl not yet a woman with lessons to be learned. Marie ran her fingers down Night Hawk’s cheek. His bronzed skin was as warm as gold. The ridge of his high cheekbone and the cut of his face would be forever etched in her memory.
“You need to go, Night Hawk.” She hated saying the words, but she would spend no more time waiting. No more time wishing. All their silences spoke louder than any words. “The captain is waiting for you.”
“You are important to me.” He kissed her gently and deeply, the kiss of a loving man. Not a hurtful one. “Can you tell me, is there a chance you will want me now?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, fighting to stay in control. Once, she would have flung herself in his arms and let him lead her to his bed. Now she did not have that innocence of spirit. “There is a chance, if you want it.”
“That is all I ask.” He kissed her like a fantasy man with the right blend of gentleness and heat.
He left her trembling, he left her wanting. He left her ashamed.
What did she do now? She had no place to go. No one to cling to. Only her own two feet to stand on.
As the storm worsened and the snow turned to ice all around, she knew she could not linger much longer.
She would have to make her choice.
Chapter Fourteen
“Whoa! That’s enough, boys,” Night Hawk called down to his team of draft horses. The geldings halted in unison, keeping the ropes taut over the pulleys. The twenty-foot log they were lifting swung dangerously in the air, buffeted by the heavy wind.
Night Hawk rubbed his hands inside his jacket pockets to dry them, then reached through the driving ice. A gust slammed into the log and drove it straight toward him.
He ducked, slipping on his icy perch. The log swung over his head, slammed into one of the new main supports for the house and shook the entire structure.
Night Hawk caught the log and slowed its swing enough to nudge it into place. You’re a fool, he told himself. What was he trying to do? Get himself killed?
Frustration roared through him with more force than the wind, and nothing would relieve it. Not working with his horses. Not walking the fences. And especially not sitting alone in his cabin. He could still feel the weight of Marie in his arms. The sweet woman scent of her clung to his shirt and tormented him.
There is a chance, if you want it. Her promise drove him now. She’d been different, distant. As if she were a stranger he’d never met before and not the woman who owned his heart.
Time was running out. He could sense it like the storm to come. The sky was leaden, and black at the horizon. Ice drove in heavy pellets, falling like snow, but when those warmer clouds arrived, there would be hell to pay.
Was that what his relationship with Marie was to be? Something that worsened until there was no chance for them?
Determined, he pulled the mallet from his belt and a wooden peg from his pocket. If Henry knew they were lovers, then what
would he do? The colonel hadn’t shown up with a loaded musket, but Night Hawk wasn’t fooled.
Henry Lafayette wasn’t going to accept him. Not as a husband for his daughter. If only he’d started work on the house sooner, the dwelling would be finished now, gleaming and new. A home that would tell Marie and her father that he was equal to any white man. That he was prepared to love her for the rest of her life.
The wind gusted. Night Hawk wrapped his legs around the unsecured log and placed the mallet over the peg. He drove the wooden nail deep into the belly of the log. Every pound of the mallet released frustration, but it did nothing to ease his fears.
Why had Marie been so distant? What had she been telling him with her set chin and unshed tears? How furiously had Henry objected?
Yet her words bolstered him when the black clouds came. When the earth turned too slippery for the horses to work the ropes. He rubbed the geldings down and fed them warmed oats, but then he returned to his work.
There is a chance, if you want it, she’d promised.
Hope strengthened him and he faced the wind and ice. For her.
Marie heard the chink of ice skidding across the fort’s stable roof. The hopeless sound of winter at its worst. The angry wind slapped loose wallboards and let in shards of ice. The temperature dropped until she was shivering.
She snuggled deeper in the extra pile of clean hay she’d forked into Kammeo’s stall. She hated how the faint, pleasing winter scent of Night Hawk somehow lingered on her clothes, or maybe it was her imagination again. Yearning for him so much, needing him to stand tall and claim her. To charge through that door on his big black stallion, take her in his arms, give her a wedding ring and take her home. To his cozy little cabin in the woods.
That’s what she wanted. To be his wife. To give this baby she carried his name.
The baby. She should have told him. Regret gathered in her chest until she couldn’t breathe. All she would have had to do was say the words. But then what would he have done?