He left the fire behind and came around to stand beside her again. He'd left her in peace before; he could no longer do so.
In fact, she continued to rest too damned long and too damned peacefully. He tapped her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. She didn't move. He went for the whiskey, pouring a shot into a mug, sitting again, and lifting her head to force some of the liquor between her lips. She sputtered, choked, coughed, and opened her eyes.
She opened her mouth and shrieked at the sight of him, terrified, fighting him instantly with flying fists and limbs.
"Dammit!" he swore, wrangling her down to the bed again. "I warn you, I am growing weary of this!"
She blinked, staring at him. He realized that she had been completely out, that in waking her, he had made her think she was under attack again.
She went dead still, not fighting him, staring up at him with her eyes cool and crystal clear. "I still don't believe you're Lord Douglas," she said. But she did know, he thought. She was staring into his eyes, which bore a strong resemblance to his father's.
"You're lying. You know damned well that I am exactly who I say I am, while you ... well, we still have to decide about you, right? Where did you get that paper?" he demanded.
"What paper?"
"The wedding license."
"You went through my things—" she began indignantly.
"Damned right. Where did you get it?"
"Baltimore," she snapped.
"When you married Lord Douglas?"
She gritted her teeth together, staring at him. "Yes, when I married Lord Douglas."
"You really went through a ceremony?"
She hesitated just a second. "Yes."
"But you married by proxy? While Lord Douglas was there?"
"He—Lord Douglas said he was not feeling well. Mr. Pike, the owner of Pike's Inn, stood in as the groom. The magistrate informed me that it was perfectly legal, that the signature of Andrew Douglas on the paper made the ceremony binding once I had agreed to the marriage vows and signed the paper as well." She flushed. "Lord Douglas insisted that the wedding take place that way. I could only agree to accompany him as a married woman—"
"So you admit! You bribed and seduced him!" Hawk said softly.
Bitingly.
Her eyes glittered like silver blades. "You go to hell. I seduced no one, and you weren't there, and you don't know—"
' 'I know that you thought that you married an old man who died of a heart attack on the same day you thought you'd married him."
She jerked up, heedless of his stare, and of his words, grasping the robe to her as she leaned against the headboard. "I repeat. Go to hell."
He rose, plucking up the fallen license. "It looks legal."
"It is legal! But—"
"You thought you married an old man. Right?"
Her eyes rose to his. Her lashes fluttered. "I—"
"Yes?"
"Yes, damn you! But if—"
"My father's name was David."
"Those men called you Hawk."
"Yes, they did. It is what I'm called, but my Christian name is Andrew."
She stared at him as if he weren't just an Indian but perhaps the devil himself. As if he had sprouted horns and a tail.
He laughed softly, feeling a strange sense of bitter justice. "My dear, dear Lady Douglas! You sought to take advantage of an old man. Charm, coerce, seduce, marry. Excite him to death, play the lovely, grieving widow and take over all his vast holdings! Well, it appears my father played a trick on you instead. You're not a wealthy widow. You're the wife of a savage. A savage who is very much alive. And in full possession of all that you came out here to acquire."
"You are an incredibly self-righteous and arrogant ass!" she hissed. "I didn't attempt to do anything to anyone. I agreed to the marriage—"
"You didn't come to acquire Mayfair? To take over the mines? I see—you agreed to the marriage because you were in love with Lord Douglas?" he demanded skeptically.
"Damn you! I cared foi1 him!" she cried.
"Umm. For all of an hour, perhaps, before you catapulted him into an early grave?"
"You son of a bi—"
"You should watch it. If this paper is legal as you claim, you're not a widow but a wife," he interrupted harshly. With a taunting smile, he returned to her side, sitting at the edge of the bed, not touching her, but close. "Remember, the wife of a savage, if you will, who wants no part of you."
Very regally, she moved back against the bedpost, drawing all the distance between them she possibly could. She remained pale, but her lashes rose and her eyes focused on his. She had tremendous pride. And nerve—he'd hand her that.
"You needn't fear, Lord Douglas. Andrew Douglas. I promise, I want no part of you, either."
"Really?"
"Really!"
He itched to slap her. How dare she look so outraged with him after what she had done? He wanted to shake her, touch her.
Get away from her. It was too easy to see how his father had fallen ...
Died.
"Well," he murmured very softly, bracing one arm over her hips and leaning closer to her. "I'm afraid that's your misfortune because I do want something from you, my dear wife. I want you to pay for what you did to my father."
He could hear her grating down on her teeth. She was trying to keep silent, avoid the argument he was baiting. She could not do so. "Get away from me!" she commanded.
He smiled. "I don't think so. I've just acquired a wife."
"I'm not an acquisition."
"According to that paper, you are."
"According to that paper, I am not an acquisition. I am legally wed—"
"To me."
"Well, that was a mistake. I did not mean for it to be so."
"But you've done it so. And I'm naturally ... curious." "Don't be!"
"How can I not be? You were intent upon marriage, Lady Douglas. Conquering new lands, heading out west for adventure—and profit. Well, madam, perhaps you will profit. But in the name of my father, my dear wife, you'll pay as well. I guarantee it."
Five
"Don't you threaten me!" Skylar cried out. It was all that she could do. In a second, he'd have her so intimidated that she'd be pleading like an idiot for mercy when there seemed to be no reason within this man whatsoever.
She ducked beneath his arms and managed to slide from the side of the bed, rise, and stare back at him. There was a wry smile slightly twisting his lips.
"Oh, Lady Douglas. I intend to do much more than threaten."
Yet when he finished with those words, he made no move toward her. He stood as well, staring at her from ncross the bed and continuing, "I suggest you use some good sense after I leave and do not try to find your way out of here before I get back. You'll be safe enough as long as you stay here. Inside."
"You're—leaving?" she said, both stunned and hopeful.
"But I'll be back."
"Why? Where are you going?"
He arched a brow. "My business is none of your con- corn.
"But you've dragged me here. You've abducted me—"
"Do you claim this license to be valid?" "Yes, but—"
"Then you've just been welcomed to your new home by your lawfully wedded husband."
"Really? And what of the stagecoach driver?"
"Old Sam?"
"Mr. Haggerty."
"I assume Mr. Haggerty has driven the stagecoach along on schedule back to Riley's."
"You—ass!" she hissed.
His eyes narrowed. "Well, ma'am, it's just not that often that I hear a complete stranger introducing herself to others as Lady Douglas while she announces she's on her way to take over my property."
"You might have introduced yourself and asked a few questions."
"The fact that my father apparently met you and died soon thereafter certainly influenced my choice of behavior. Let me warn you again. There are all manner of wild creatures outside. Bears, wolves—hostile Indians."
>
"You can't imagine that you can just leave me here and expect that I'll stay put—"
"Oh, but I do imagine."
"I want to go—"
"To Mayfair? You were on your way to the estate, right?"
"At the moment I simply want to return to civilization!"
"There is no real 'civilization' here, Lady Douglas."
"Civilization could simply be where you are not!" Skylar flared.
He offered her one of his mocking smiles. "You were on your way to Lord Douglas's property. You are on Douglas property; this hunting lodge is mine. Since I will not be here for a while, you may consider yourself in civilization—and at the end of your journey. Enjoy civilization— as I've said, I'll be back."
She stood where she was, staring at him with her jaw locked until he drew more clothing from the trunk at the foot of the bed. She burned with a raw fury unlike anything
she had known before. He'd made a fool out of her. He didn't know her, didn't know anything about her or what had happened, and he'd labeled her an adventuress—and worse. A murderess. He'd pretended a savage attack on her. He'd taken it as far as he possibly might have gone. She hated him. Loathed him. Wanted to shoot an arrow between his eyes and take up scalping herself.
Not glancing her way, heedless that she remained in the robe, he shed his own robe and donned buckskin trousers. She felt her cheeks go afire and she quickly turned away, her shoulders squared. She tried very hard to control her seething temper. "How long am I to wait here?"
"Until I find out from an attorney if this marriage license is legal."
"Oh, it is legal," she grated, keeping her back turned to him. "But—"
"We'll see what is and isn't legal. There's food here. You've the coffee—and the whiskey. I'll call Wolf to watch over you—"
"Wolf? Another of your cohorts in the stagecoach holdup?" she demanded, swinging around to look at him again. He was in dark buckskin trousers, high black boots, and a fringed buckskin shirt. His hair was queued back. He was extremely tall and well built, striking in his appearance, and still entirely forbidding. He might have appeared white, except... that he didn't. There was something far too savage remaining in the glint of his stare upon her.
"Wolf is my dog. And yes, he is part wolf, thus the name. He'll protect you—or chew you to ribbons if you choose to leave the lodge. Perhaps you should get some sleep. I'll be back tomorrow before evening." He turned, about to leave her. "Do make yourself at home. As I've said, it is Douglas property that you're on now."
"Wait—" she began, but he was gone. The door was closed behind him. She clutched the robe to her, biting into her lower lip, and raced after him, ready to throw open the door.
But she heard him say, "Good boy, stay! Keep an eye on her,now. She's dangerous!" Then excited barking. She stepped back. It didn't seem prudent to open the door.
She leaned against the door, staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. She started shaking again.
She wasn't going to be murdered and scalped by an Indian. At least she didn't think so. He had a horrible temper and didn't seem to be afraid of the consequences for any of his actions, but he wasn't a complete savage.
She sank down against the door, shaking her head. She'd never meant to trick anyone. She hadn't married Lord Douglas for gain.
Apparently, she hadn't married the man she'd met at all. She'd married his son.
The trick had been on her.
She buried her face in her hands, trembling, then stared up at the ceiling, as if she could see God.
"Why?" she whispered, glad that the green-eyed savage wasn't around to hear the whimpering sound of her voice. She didn't deserve this.
She 'd married to escape.
What in God's name was she going to do now? What kind of cruel hoax had they all played upon one another? Just when she had thought that life had finally given her a way . ..
She shouldn't have done it.
She had never meant any harm. Pike's place had always been her escape. It was a small inn, but it had been in business since Revolutionary times, established by Pike's great-grandfather. The present Pike had been her father's very good friend. A number of Baltimore matrons and their daughters came to Pike's for an occasional luncheon, and since it was considered such a respectable establishment, she's had little trouble claiming to her mother that she went to Pike's to meet friends. Lord Douglas had been a visitor over the years—it was quite the fashionable place for wealthy out-of-towners to frequent as well. Pike had pointed him out to her before as an eccentric Englishman living on the frontier who came east on occasion to see to his banking concerns. She had spoken with him politely in the past. But this time she had been there when he had so nearly collapsed. She had been the one to catch him, to insist on calling the doctor. And she would never forget the way that he had told her after he'd seen the doctor that there was little that could be done for him. But it was then- secret, please.
He'd been so gentle, kind, dignified, fascinating. She'd realized she was the only one in the world who was aware of how ill he had become. She'd begun to open up to him in turn, telling him things she had never told anyone before. In a matter of days, she'd felt as if he'd been her best friend all of her life. He'd understood the gravity of her situation, the trickiness of it, and had suggested that she come with him. But she couldn't just leave; she didn't dare.
Then had come the night when she hadn't dared go home.
And he had offered her a way out. She had needed the help so badly ...
Skylar leaped to her feet and began pacing the floor.
An annulment. She had to get an annulment. If she really was wed to this hateful creature.
She would just go back. Go back east.
Was she insane? She couldn't go back!
That thought racked her over and over again. No, she couldn't go back. And she hadn't married for gain, but she did need money. Desperately.
The fire was dying in the hearth. The cabin was darkening. It was probably very late. She was alone in the wilderness with nothing but a wretched, bloodthirsty dog nearby. She hoped. There could be worse creatures of the night beyond the door. . ..
She couldn't be afraid, she told herself. Thankfully, she was too exhausted to feel much of anything.
She sat on the bed, then stretched out upon it. The iliought remained with her, growing duller and duller. She couldn't go back.
So what did she do now?
She laid her head on the pillow.
What if he didn't come back? Who would die first, her or the wolf-dog?
She felt like laughing again. She was so tired. She closed her eyes and felt herself dozing. It felt good. So good. Her body eased down more comfortably into the mattress. And her sleep deepened.
Gold Town, a small mining settlement that had grown up quickly in the last few years since gold had been discovered in the Black Hills, was rustic—and prosperous. Henry Pierpont did a decent enough business to keep a large office on Main Street, fully furnished from the East with handsome leather chairs and sofas and cherrywood bookcases. He had a secretary, Jim Higgins, a young man who'd originally come for the gold, then turned in his miner's equipment for pen and ink. The moment Hawk burst into the law office, Jim was on his feet. "Hawk. Er, Lord Douglas. Henry's been expecting you, Lord Douglas."
Hawk nodded, heading toward the inner office. He paused. "Jim."
"Yes, sir, Lord Douglas."
"My father was born in England. Lord Douglas suited him, don't you think'' Hawk suits me."
Jim flashed him a weak smile. "Yeah, thanks. It's much more comfortable."
Hawk nodded again, then went on into Henry's office. Painfully thin with wire-rimmed spectacles and a prematurely balding head, Henry Pierpont leaped to his feet. He knocked over the coffee cup in front of him and started mopping up the coffee with his handkerchief. "Hawk. Your father's body is due at Riley's by tonight. It's come as far as it could by train, but the railroad had a little bit of a problem get
ting a proper conveyance to bring it on up. We're still really in the wilds out here, you know. But there's a matter that's come to my attention by the most recent post—" He broke off, shaking his head, miserable and very nervous.
Hawk threw the wedding license on Henry's desk and sat in the chair in front of it.
"Could this matter have something to do with a woman claiming to be Lady Douglas?" he demanded.
Henry went dead still, then nodded. He sank back into his own chair. "You must understand, your father was my client."
Hawk arched a brow.
Henry held a pencil. It cracked between his fingers. "I warned him that he shouldn't be carrying around proxy papers, that it just wasn't right."
"You drew up proxy papers?"
"Yes, I drew them up."
"Henry, damn you—"
"Hawk, I drew them up, but, well, you did sign them."
"Because I've never been interested in taking control of my father's estates! He managed his own properties! He was sound of mind, he was in good health—"
"He was aging," Henry interrupted quietly. "I wanted to contact you and let you know that he was quite determined that you should marry, but again, your father was my client, until his death. Of course, now you're Lord Douglas, my client."
Hawk felt completely at a loss. He lifted his hands. ' 'Did my father know this woman before he left here?"
Henry shook his head. "No. I don't know where he found the young woman—" He broke off, puzzled. "How do you know about this? I just received your father's last letters to me with copies of the documents. The young lady hasn't arrived yet—"
"Oh, but she has!" Hawk murmured. He leaned forward, staring at Henry. "Just tell me—is this marriage legal?"
"Well, of course, you could apply for an annulment, if both parties were willing—"
"Is the marriage legal?" he demanded
"It—er—yes," Henry said.
Hawk expelled a long breath. "I can't believe my father did this!"
Henry cleared his throat. "It—gets a little worse."
Hawk arched a brow at him.
No Other Man Page 6