Jillian Hart - Night Hawk's Bride

Cool water poured down his throat and he swallowed until it was gone. More sweat ran down his face and chest. He’d been up since three this morning making hay while the good weather held.

Meka’s low bark cut through the afternoon’s serenity. Night Hawk squinted into the sun and saw a figure crowning a low rise where earth and sun made illusion. There was a suggestion of a woman’s dark wavy hair and soft curves—Marie Lafayette.

Night Hawk cursed. Not even twelve straight hours of hard work could drive the colonel’s daughter from his mind. He grabbed his shirt off the fence’s top rail and slung it over his shoulder.

When he looked up, the illusion remained, with her long hair rippling, her green skirts swirling around her soft woman’s body—a body made for a man’s pleasure.

Want drummed in his blood.

Then Marie moved, dream became reality. She was breezing closer, bringing the sunlight with her. Meka barked again, and only a sharp command kept the dog from bounding over to greet their unwelcome guest.

Night Hawk hardened his heart. He had to send her back to the fort. It was the right thing to do—no, it was the only thing to do.

“I came to see Kammeo.” She stepped out of the sunbeams and offered him a shy smile. “Would you let me watch while you train her sometime?”

Night Hawk pulled on his shirt and drew it down over his sun-bronzed chest. “What are you doing out here on your own? It’s dangerous.”

“The bear was caught this morning. I’m perfectly safe.” She held out her hand to let the dog scent her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

“You didn’t.” He snared the empty jug and then whistled to his dog, ordering Meka to heel. “Come, we’ll take you home.”

“I came to visit my mare. I didn’t see her in the pasture.” She lifted her skirts and breezed after him, her dainty feet hardly touching the ground. “I came through the woods along the lakeshore. I’ve never taken such a beautiful walk.”

Every step she took beat through him. Why? Why was his physical reaction to this woman so turbulent?

“The sunlight sparkled on the lake,” she continued, “and the woods were enchanting, like something out of a fairy tale. I’ve never been in such a wild place.”

She was beauty, the finest he’d ever seen and far more enchanting than this tiny piece of the world. “You’re not afraid of the wilderness?”

“Afraid? It’s amazing. Except for the meadows and the lake, and the farmers’ fields of course, the trees go on forever. I’ve never been serenaded to sleep by wolves.”

“Wait until you hear the cougars.”

“They’re musical, too?”

“Let’s just say the sound might make you miss the quiet back home.” Merriment twinkled a little in his dark eyes.

“Between the birds that hunt at night, the bugs that chirp and sound like they’re the size of bears in the dark and the wolves braying, I’m sleeping blissfully.”

“I bet you are.” Night Hawk unlatched the wooden gate and stood there, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. “It’s quieter in the city.”

“Astonishingly.”

He held the gate open for her. Her skin tingled as she swept past him. Maybe it was because she remembered seeing his bronzed chest, bare and glistening at the sun’s touch. Or maybe it was the man.

While he latched the gate, the big black dog bounded toward her, tongue lolling and sharp teeth bared in a doggy smile.

“Meka! Sit,” Night Hawk ordered.

The dog launched into the air and placed his front paws on Marie’s shoulders. His tongue swiped across her chin in a friendly greeting, and delight filled her. She couldn’t resist hugging him. “I never had a dog when I was growing up.”

“Down, Meka.” Night Hawk snapped his fingers and strode close enough to cast her in his shadow.

The dog swiped his tongue across her knuckles and then obeyed. “He’s a ferocious one, I can tell.”

“And he doesn’t like strangers.” Night Hawk quirked one dark brow and his mouth narrowed as if he were trying not to laugh. “Especially women.”

“I can tell. He’s also the smallest dog I’ve ever seen.”

“If you compare him to a bear. Meka, sit.” Night Hawk snapped his fingers and the huge dog sank to his haunches, tongue hanging out, a sparkle in his eye, imploring to be stroked.

Marie couldn’t resist running her fingers across his broad head. His fur was warm from the sun and bristly soft. A bronzed hand much bigger than her own settled on the dog’s head and stroked only a hairbreadth from her fingers.

Marie burned as if she’d touched the sun.

Night Hawk moved away, as if he were upset. “Come, Kammeo will be glad to see you.”

As though his words had brought her, a whinny carried across the windswept meadow where a horse skidded to a stop at the split-rail fence, her red mane flying in the wind.

But what drew Marie’s attention, and kept it, was the way Night Hawk’s blue cotton shirt was unbuttoned, showing a wide strip of golden skin and hard, delineated muscle.

“I’ve been getting her used to a bridle. She doesn’t like it.” Night Hawk stroked one big hand down the horse’s cheek. “I’m having a small problem training her. I don’t know anything about a lady’s sidesaddle.”

“Neither do I.”

“That must be how you ride in Ohio.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“Now I understand why your father ‘forgot’ to buy you a mare.” Night Hawk climbed over the rails and then held out his hand.

Marie looked at his wide palm, callused from hard work, and laid her hand on his. Heat seared through her like lightning across a dark sky. Light burst within her so bright it hurt.

Night Hawk’s eyes went black. His strong fingers curled around the side of her hand. Had he experienced this, too?

She concentrated on fitting her shoe on the lower rung and climbing. Her skirts caught the wind and twisted tight around her ankles, but Night Hawk held her steady.

Her feet touched the ground, but she couldn’t feel it.

A warm velvet horse’s nose bumped against her shoulder in greeting. Dazed, Marie stroked the mare’s neck and tried to marvel at the heated coat that stretched tautly over the steely muscles beneath. Night Hawk moved close, tying a rope he’d lifted from one of the fence posts, and slipped the makeshift halter over Kammeo’s nose.

“She is your first horse, and you will be her first rider.” Night Hawk shouldered close to slip the pliant hemp over the mare’s ears. “You’ll learn together.”

Excitement thrilled through her. He nodded once in understanding, as if he could read her secret wishes and dreams.

“Hold the rope tight, right here.” He placed her hand firmly in front of his.

At once she felt the quivering life force of the mare and the steady steel of the man. Like a dream, he led the way deeper into the field, walking beside Marie as if he belonged there. As if he were a part of her.

He spoke low, and Kammeo moved. The rope pulled taut, and Marie felt a connection to the man that she couldn’t explain. Night Hawk halted behind her, with only the wind between them. Her body tingled and burned as if they were touching, chest to back, thigh to thigh.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured.

She blushed. He’d noticed she was trembling, but she wasn’t afraid.

“Keep her going in a circle.”

His words breezed against the back of her neck, sending arrows of pure sensation down her spine.

“Hold on tight.”

She needed to hold on to her senses, that’s what she needed. But Night Hawk stepped away, leaving her alone with the rope. Kammeo didn’t miss a beat and when Night Hawk spoke, the mare broke into a disciplined trot, leaving Marie to rotate in a smaller circle of her own, faster against the wind and the sun.