Authors: Carol Finch
Then his warm green eyes swam over her shivering skin, as he steered her away from the deadly quicksand and lifted her into his arms. When he had peeled off her soiled shirt and cast his breeches aside, he carried Rozalyn into the river to cleanse her.
His hands flowed over her skin, washing away the clinging sand, and Rozalyn died a thousand deaths as he provocatively massaged her body. She knew he had broken her heart the last time she'd dared to play this dangerous game, but being held in this man's arms would always rekindle her desire. It would always be like this with Hawk. When he made love to her, her soul sang.
The fresh clean scent of him invaded her nostrils, reviving memories of their lovemaking and creating a need Rozalyn could not ignore. As her wandering fingertips trailed across his shoulder, her sense of touch evoked currents of pleasure, and when her lips tasted his bronzed skin, her quiet sigh intermingled with the chattering of the birds. Hawk filled her senses. In that serene moment all was forgotten, and he became her world. It was as if they were the only two people on earth. Even the sun hid its head behind the western horizon to grant them complete privacy.
Rozalyn was transported back in time, back to the splendrous world of tender emotion. She could not fight her memories of the past when they mingled with the present. Even though surrendering to passion would only break her heart again, she could not deny him, not when it meant denying herself the pleasures that awaited ' her.
Staring at Rozalyn with deliberate concentration, Hawk slid an arm beneath her knees. Allowing the water to cradle her, he set her adrift while his hungry kisses flowed over the trim column of her neck. Meanwhile his
fingers meandered over her thighs and then traced the shapely curve of her hips. He allowed his hands and lips to wander where they would, but he soon became painfully aware that he was afire, though he was standing chest deep in water. His aching need for this lovely nymph consumed him, and he could not contain a sigh of pleasure as his lips whispered over her silky skin, tracing each curve and swell of her exquisite body.
Lord, he loved to caress her satiny flesh, and he found her soft, full lips more intoxicating than wine. Hawk would have been content to spend the remainder of the night making love to this glorious angel. It didn't matter that she despised him. He needed her, yearned to ease the tormenting craving that had hounded since he'd dragged her from civilization. He had brought this free spirit into his world, a world that had been complete and satisfying until she'd come into his life. Now Rozalyn had turned his world upside down and nothing made sense anymore, nothing except touching her, taking her with him on the most intimate of journeys.
A shuddering sigh tumbled from Rozalyn's lips as Hawk's practiced hands glided over every inch of her body. He was fueling a fire that all the water in the Platte couldn't cool. His touch satisfied some of her needs, but it also created new ones. She swore the hunger he'd provoked would devour her before it was satisfied.
She could profess to despise him for what he had done, but that didn't prevent her from responding to him. This bold mountain man with dancing green eyes and jet black hair was the devil's own temptation. Rozalyn was helpless to defy him, and her traitorous body arched toward his seeking hands. She craved far more. She longed to feel his hard, muscular body pressed against her.
When Hawk lifted her back into his arms and carried her to shore, she voiced no protest. She had fought Hawk once, but all her efforts had been wasted. Now it seemed inevitable when she was with him. She still loved the man she had tried to hate.
Eyes that flickered with blatant desire raked over Rozalyn's naked flesh, and Hawk's devouring gaze did not waver as he set her on her feet. "I can never seem to get enough of you," he breathed raggedly. "You have become an obsession, one so fierce and uncontrollable that I ..."
Suddenly Hawk lost all interest in conversation. His lips were too eager to engage in something far more arousing. As he drew Rozalyn down onto the thick carpet of grass that lined the river, his hands curled around her waist to lift her above him, then his lips feathered over the peaks of her breasts. Again, his caresses roamed and aroused. They glided over every inch of her satiny skin until her body moved instinctively toward his. His hands and lips did delicious things to her, maddening things.
As her soft, yielding body molded itself to his, Hawk groaned in pleasure. Rozalyn had come to him, even when she'd vowed she would not. Nothing had changed. All thought escaped him when her sweet lips melted upon his, her tongue darting into his mouth and deepening a kiss in which their breaths intermingled. Her slim fingers tunneled into his hair, tangling in the thick raven strands, and her body insinuated itself provocatively onto his. Hawk moaned from the delicious torment. Her touch, her kiss, the feel of her burning into him drove him to the verge of insanity. It was easy to lose himself in the sensations she was weaving about him, easy to yield to the primitive urges that flooded over him.
Rozalyn was all too aware of him, of the brawny columns of his long legs, the hard contours of his hips. Hawk was masculinity personified. He could make his will her own. She wanted him as a starving traveler wants nourishment. The sensations that riveted through her bordered on desperation. Rozalyn moved closer to the flame, eager to surrender all, just to appease the overwhelming need that made her entire body tremble uncontrollably.
Unable to hold himself at bay a moment longer, Hawk moved toward her, responding to her feminine softness. His hands splayed across her hips, holding her to him as he drove into her, his open mouth covering hers and muffling her cry of pleasure. And they were one, sharing the savage urgency of their embrace. As passion engulfed them, their bodies burned in its sweet, violent fire. She met his deep thrusts and clung fiercely to him as he moved against her, filling her with sensations that were wild and satisfying. Their dark world came alive with golden flames whose curling fingers rose higher to weave a blazing spell about them.
Rozalyn was prepared to sacrifice her last breath for release from the maddening desire that possessed her as Hawk took her higher and higher into the flames. Her flesh was ablaze but her soul was still reaching upward to touch the lofty crest that towered beyond passion's inferno. For one long moment Rozalyn felt she was dangling in midair, trapped between desire's raging flames and rapture's satisfying warmth. And then she let go, unable to battle the fierce emotions that had taken over her mind and body. She feared she would tumble back into the outstretched arms of the flames, but suddenly her soul soared, like an eagle testing its wings and gliding along on the wind. Time stood still as she circled and dived in lofty flight. I have been here before, she thought to herself. But each time was different somehow, wilder, sweeter. . . . And then the wind beneath her wings stilled and she was drifting downward, back into the hazy sea of reality. She lay limp and drowsy in Hawk's encircling arms, her cheeks flushed with the blush of contentment, her breath whispering softly against his sturdy shoulder.
Had it been a dream or had she truly transcended the physical limitations of her body? Rozalyn wasn't certain. Slowly, her long lashes swept up to see a pair of emerald green eyes thoughtfully studying her. A tender smile grazed his lips when he combed his fingers through her tangled tendrils which were extended on the grass. Rozalyn reached up to trace the strong line of his jaw and quietly returned his smile. It was not a dream, she decided. Hawk's lovemaking left her with the illusion that he had performed magic, but her sensations were real. He could make her respond, even when she would have preferred not to yield to his skillful caresses.
"You may always despise me, Roz, but even that doesn't matter when I hold you like this," he rasped, his voice husky in the aftermath of passionate lovemaking. "It has always been like this between us and it always will be." Hawk bent to drop a kiss onto her kiss-swollen lips and then withdrew to stare into her shimmering blue eyes. "Promise me you won't try to escape me. The wilderness can be harsh and cruel to those who have not learned to respect it. There are dangers lurking in every shadow, ones you can't possibly imagine. Whatever else you believe about me, I don't want to see you hurt."
Rozalyn caught herself the split second before she read more into his softly spoken words than he'd intended. His main concern was delivering her to her father, nothing more. If she got into trouble, he would be inconvenienced. That is what concerns him most, she told herself. Like the menagerie of supplies strapped to his belt and to his pack horses, she was another possession, something required to fulfill his purpose. You have been a fool once. Spare yourself the heartache of believing in a man who sees you only as a means to an end, she told herself.
Squirming away, Rozalyn sank down in the grass and peered across the river, watching the silver waves roll across its surface. She was not going to fall prey to her foolish heart this time. A time would come when she could escape him, and she would flee without looking back. The dangers that awaited in the shadows could be no more deadly than having one's soul bared and bleeding.
"It seems you and I are stuck with each other . . . temporarily," she conceded. "I may be your captive, but I cannot and will not become your whore. I complied with your terms to ensure my safety . . . only that." She lied without batting an eye, praying that Hawk would not test her resistance to his magic spell during the time they were together.
He propped himself up on an elbow and reached over to trail his index finger over her bare arm, but she shrank away as if scorched by his touch. Her frosty tone and her open refusal of his caress spoiled the moment. He retaliated without thinking.
"I have not lived in the wilderness all these years in celibacy," he said sharply. "You are not the only woman this side of the Mississippi. Indeed, I have known several who would be eager to exchange places with you."
Rozalyn vaulted to her feet and glared at him. "Then search out your harlots and bed every one of them," she snapped. "As a matter of fact, I shall be eternally grateful to be spared your attention. Indeed, I would rather confront a grizzly bear."
As Rozalyn dragged her pallet from the pack horse and made up her bed, Hawk slammed his fist onto the ground, cursing his impulsive rejoinder, knowing it would surely come back to haunt him.
After properly berating himself for his stupidity, he stepped into his buckskins, then set about making his bed, which he slept in alone. For several minutes he lay staring up at the ceiling of stars, mulling over several comments that might ease Rozalyn's irritation with him.
But he thought better of voicing an apology. A stone wall would soften sooner than this stubborn chit. Rozalyn was mad as hell and his only recourse was to let her steam and stew. Once she had simmered down he would reopen the subject, using considerably more diplomacy than he'd employed this time. They were not going to spend every night sleeping on separate pallets, Hawk vowed. Perhaps the only way to get along with Rozalyn was to give her her way—but not on this matter! Hawk was only willing to concede for the moment. If he were not allowed to touch her during the long months they spent in each other's company, he would not be able to keep a clear head and thus protect them from the dangers of the wilderness. There are subtle tactics for getting one's way, Hawk reminded himself as he drew the quilt over his shoulder. He was going to devote his spare time to devising some.
Chapter 13
After two days of strained silence, Rozalyn's temper was rising. Hawk continued to sport the smug smile that irked her each time she glanced in his direction. Although Hawk had been polite and considerate, considering the circumstances, she was determined not to be wooed back into his arms. She had sworn there would be no more passionate encounters and she had meant it. She had very little else left; she was not about to relinquish her self-respect.
Flouncing onto the ground after a long day of traveling, Rozalyn turned a cold shoulder to her companion as she choked down her meager ration of pemmican. To her, it tasted a great deal like sour grapes. When she dared to glance in Hawk's direction, he was studying her with calculating green eyes, and plastered on his face was that infuriating grin she was beginning to detest.
"What could you possibly find so amusing for hours on end?" Rozalyn asked challengingly.
He lifted one shoulder and then let it drop while he chewed on his meager meal. "You," he replied pleasantly enough. "You are waging civilized warfare, minx. If the daggers you've been glaring at me were real, I would be the recipient of so many stab wounds, water would run through me like a sieve."
Rozalyn reacquainted him with her knife-hurling glare. "Believe me, Hawk, were I to get my hands on a weapon of any kind, there would be nothing civilized about the tortures I have in mind for you. Indeed, I'm not certain your head on a silver platter would satisfy me, not after what you've put me through."