Jillian Hart - Night Hawk's Bride

He leaned against the fence. “Are you getting dizzy?”

“Not yet, but if she goes any faster…”

“Turn and walk backward. I can come help.”

“No.” Simply looking at him, with his hair bound at his nape and his shirt snapping open to let the sun worship his bronze chest, pleased her immensely. She wanted to feel his touch more than anything in the world.

Embarrassed by her thoughts, she turned, leading with her back shoulder, and the world stopped spinning so fast. Kammeo broke into a blinding gallop. The land became a swirl of green grass and golden sun.

Then Night Hawk’s hand covered hers and brought the mare to a stop. Disappointed, Marie swayed into a steely chest. Lean, muscled arms enfolded her and kept her steady. How wonderful it was when wishes came true. He smelled like summer wind and mowed grass, and he felt hotter than the sun.

“Are you all right?”

“I will be.” If she could catch her breath and find the good sense that had obviously taken leave of her. Marie stumbled away, not sure if she was dizzy from twirling or light-headed from being in his arms.

Kammeo stood obediently and waited while Marie approached, and the mare nickered in friendship. The horse offered her cheek to be rubbed.

Grateful for something to do, something that would keep her from thinking about the man two paces behind her, Marie stroked her fingers along the horse’s sleek coat.

Kammeo leaned into the touch with an appreciative-sounding groan.

“You two are a good match.” Night Hawk’s shadow fell across Marie as he untied the makeshift halter. “I will have her saddle-trained by the end of the month.”

Marie watched, captivated, as he rubbed his big, gentle hand down the mare’s satin neck, talking low and kind to the animal. Full of spirit, Kammeo took off at a hard gallop, tail and mane streaming like fire in the wind.

“That’s what I want to do. I want to race her with the wind.” Longing filled her as she watched the red mare fly across the meadow.

He laughed loud and true, as if from the depths of his soul. “Your father is going to ban me from the fort for selling you that horse. I’ll train her for you, but that’s it. Ride her fast or not, I refuse to be responsible.”

“Being banned from the fort wouldn’t be that much of a hardship.”

“Joke all you want. I am not angering the colonel.” Night Hawk couldn’t believe it. The sedate, upstanding English teacher the colonel had been promising the area settlers was nothing short of a lie. Or maybe the colonel and his love of discipline and command was too blind to see the spirited filly he’d sired.

Spirited fillies were hard to handle, that was for sure.

“Teach me to ride like you do.” Her skirts whispered behind him. “Please. I won’t tell my father if you don’t.”

“He’ll know, believe me.” Night Hawk tossed the coiled rope over the fence post, fighting with himself. No one had made him laugh in a long time. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt….

No, he shouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. “Let me grab my musket and I’ll see you home.”

“I can find my way back.” Marie’s chin lifted.

Her bonnet ties and long wavy curls framed her face, and he couldn’t look away.

It was as if he’d seen her face a thousand times in his thoughts since he’d saved her from the runaway horse. Turning his back and walking away from her hurt as if a knife were slicing him.

Maybe walking with her wasn’t such a good idea.

“I’ll wait on the path near the lake, then,” he said without looking at her again. “I can keep an eye on you for most of the way to the settlement. Meka will stay with you. He’ll scare off any wild animals.”

“Thank you.” She placed her woman-soft hand in his as she climbed over the fence.

Fire seared through his veins for the brief moment it took her to reach the ground.

“Can I come back and watch you train her?” An innocent longing gleamed in her eyes. Her face was flushed from the excitement and pleasure of working with Kammeo.

“Can I stop you?”

“No.” She was passion and beauty, and far out of his reach.

He couldn’t keep from noticing the sway of her body beneath that dress. He couldn’t halt the pounding desire for her in his blood.

She’ll never be yours. He knew it. But that truth didn’t stop him from wanting her long after she’d disappeared from his sight or deep into the night where he lay alone in his bed.

Always alone.

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