Captive Bride (29 page)

 
After Hawk pushed the horses until they labored, he slowed them to a trot. He didn't dare stop moving, not when Half-Head was in hot pursuit. Although the enemy was afoot, Hawk was taking no chances. He could never let his guard down when that frightful beast was stalking him. His gaze drifted back over his shoulder. No doubt, Half-Head knew who had kidnapped Rozalyn. The burly brute would delight in settling his score with Hawk, and he would gladly accept money after having his way with Rozalyn. Damnation, Hawk muttered under his breath. Aubrey had sent the most ruthless henchman he could find to avenge Rozalyn's abduction. If DuBois cared anything at all about his daughter's safety he would have looked elsewhere for assistance, but he hungered to see Hawk dead and that obsession had overshadowed his concern for his only daughter.

 
Hawk's apprehension delighted Rozalyn. She had never seen him so cautious. Spitefully, she wished she could be the one to instill such anxiety in him. That would provide some consolation for the pain he had inflicted on her, the agony she had endured by remaining in his company when she was still so vulnerable.

 
"So you are afraid of this Half-Head fellow," Rozalyn prodded.

 
"I respect his abilities," Hawk answered. "Half-Head and I had a scuffle that he swore he would not soon forget."

 
"A number of people seem to have grudges against you," Rozalyn taunted. "It does make one wonder where the fault lies when so many enemies long to loose a bullet with your name on it." A thoughtful frown knitted her brow. "How did this Half-Head come by his name?"

 
"His given name is Jarvis Ranes," Hawk explained, casting another apprehensive glance over his shoulder. "But he came by that name when he lost half his scalp in battle."

 
"I suppose you are the one who raised half his scalp and caused him to become known by such an uncomplimentary nickname." Although Rozalyn was merely taunting Hawk, a wary frown appeared on her features when he did not immediately respond to her remark. She peered over her shoulder to survey the chiseled expression carved on his bronzed face, and she knew at once that she had hit upon an exposed nerve. The deadly gleam in his eyes told her all she wanted to know. "It was you, wasn't it, Hawk?" she choked out.

 
"If I had not been interrupted by his two Blackfoot friends I would have lifted all that murdering bastard's scalp." There was venom in Hawk's voice, and it made Rozalyn shudder uncontrollably. "Half-Head brutally killed two of my friends for the fur pelts they had collected. And what he did to my friend's squaw is not a tale fit for your ears. I would have seen Half-Head lying in a pool of his own blood if time had permitted."

 
Rozalyn wanted to hear no more. Her eyes darted fearfully about her. At any moment she expected to see two savages and their ominous leader leap from the shadows. She voiced no complaint when Hawk insisted that it was far too dangerous to slow their pace or take time to rest. Perhaps being with him was not the worse of two evils, Rozalyn told herself. The grisly picture he painted of Half-Head was vivid enough to create nightmares, and she didn't want to close her eyes for fear of being haunted by her overactive imagination.

 
It was long past midnight of the second day before Hawk reined the horses to a halt and rummaged through the saddlebags for the dried beef that was to serve as their meager meal. Rozalyn was almost too weary to eat. But when he thrust the stick of tough beef at her and ordered her to chew on it, she complied. Nor did she protest when he dragged only one fur quilt from the pack horse to serve as their bed. That particular night she would fall asleep on Hawk's shoulder, content to lie in the protective circle of his arms. There would be no campfire to provide warmth, only the heat of their bodies molded together' inside a quilt cocoon.

 
Hawk's dark eyebrows lifted in surprise when Rozalyn snuggled up against him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I wondered if I would have to bind and gag you to force you to sleep this close to me." Hawk laughed softly.

 
The feel of his hard warmth was as cozy as any campfire, and Rozalyn was too exhausted by their hectic pace to rise to his taunt. "There are a great many things about you that I do not appreciate"—she sighed tiredly and her slender arm curled about his neck—"but I must admit that you make a most comfortable pallet."

 
As her supple body moved against him, he was aroused, but he controlled the overwhelming urge to take her honeyed mouth. This was not the time to lose his head, not with the gruesome threesome tracking them. Sleeping alone while Rozalyn was so close at hand had been a torture worse than death, but this was nine kinds of hell! Rozalyn was sprawled over him, her knee intimately situated between his thighs, her soft feminine scent warping what was left of his senses. She was so temptingly close, yet she might as well have been twenty yards away for all the good her nearness would do him now!

 
How the devil was he to sleep with Half-Head sniffing out his tracks and this alluring minx using him as her pillow? The answer to those discomforting questions buzzed through his mind until the sun raised its head. Hawk did not sleep at all. He merely lay on the ground like a stiff corpse, not daring to move for fear of arousing his male needs. To make matters worse, his eyes kept popping open each time he heard a sound, ensuring they had no unwelcome visitors creeping up on them.

 
Rozalyn moaned drowsily as Hawk scooped her up in his arms and set her upon her mount. After he swung into his own saddle, he gestured toward the northwest, touching his heels to the black stallion's flanks to start the pack train in that direction. A concerned frown creased Rozalyn's brow when she eased up beside Hawk. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and he looked very tired, as if he hadn't slept a wink during the night.

Rozalyn couldn't fathom how he could push himself without some much-needed rest. Her own muscles screamed each time she moved. She would have done almost anything for a feather bed and a brass tub—anything except facing the man Hawk had described as the devil himself.

 
The more she contemplated the man Hawk had described, the more prone she was to believe that he had not exaggerated. If this awesome mountain man feared another human, even a little, that man had to be a monster. Rozalyn was in no hurry to make Half-Head's acquaintance and she sorely regretted her blunder. If she had kept silent, they would not be fleeing like hunted animals.

 
"Hawk?" Rozalyn cast a sideways glance at her weary companion. "I'm sorry. . . ." Her apology was soft and sincere.

 
His broad shoulders lifted and dropped carelessly. "It is no matter. Half-Head would have discovered us sooner or later. At least now I know who your father has sent to dispose of me."

 
"Do you know why Papa hates your family so?" she inquired.

 
"No," he said simply. "But I hope to find out." A lopsided smile rippled across his lips. "At least I am not left to wonder why you have so little use for me. Your father accused me of scheming, but what you and I—"

 
Rozalyn cut him off. "It is all in the past." She was still nursing her wounds and she could not bear to hear Hawk's excuses. She didn't want to go through agony again. Once had been enough.

 
Hawk could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that the subject had been closed so he let the matter drop. Besides, it would have led to an argument and he didn't need to be sidetracked just now.

Chapter 14

 
By the end of their fifth day of flight, Hawk was completely exhausted. He had pushed himself relentlessly and he was reasonably certain that the time he had put between them and Half-Head would grant him a few hours' rest.

 
Rozalyn leaned back against a tree to study Hawk as he stripped off his fringed shirt and knelt by the river to wash. She admired the broad expanse of his back, the muscles that rippled over his arms and shoulders. Dammit, why did she still find this rough-edged mountain man so attractive despite what he'd put her through? And why did she sympathize with his weariness when he had brought this upon himself?

 
Turning away from the arousing sight of Hawk's bronzed skin and masculine contours, Rozalyn breathed a discouraged sigh. It seemed her penance for running wild in the past few years was to find herself in the company of the one man she couldn't have. Perhaps if she were more of a woman she could capture this lion of a man. Maybe if she learned to control her flighty temper Hawk would have had more respect for her. Oh, why couldn't she stop wanting what she knew she could never have? Hawk was a shiftless mountain man. He didn't need a woman to love and care for him. You must forget him if you hope to salvage your sanity when you emerge from this ordeal, she told herself. Think of something else!

 
Taking her own advice she turned her thoughts to food ... or to the available substitute for it. After rummaging through the supplies, she found a few dried rations to munch on, but she was restless and her eyes circled the surroundings. She wondered how close Half-Head was.

 
Rozalyn was startled when Hawk's shadow fell over her. She thought she had been paying close attention to all that transpired, but obviously she had not developed her senses. She did not have the ears of a wolf or the eyes of an eagle. Hawk did. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for anticipating disaster before it was upon him. The day he had spotted the bobcat that had been tracking them Rozalyn had heard nothing but the chirping of birds. If she had been alone, she knew she would have become the bobcat's evening meal.

 
"If you would like to bathe in the stream, I'll stand watch," Hawk offered tiredly.

 
Nodding agreeably, Rozalyn set aside her tasteless rations and ambled toward the river. She didn't care that Hawk was watching her. The thought of bathing and easing her aching muscles was foremost in her mind. Let him gawk. That was all he could do. Hawk had his hands full in keeping one step ahead of her father's henchman. He wouldn't dare force himself on her with such trouble nipping at his heels. Perhaps Hawk would find himself wanting her, but he deserved to be uncomfortable. Even such discomfort did not compare to the ache that nagged at her mending heart.

 
Hawk's eyes turned a deeper shade of green when Rozalyn stepped from her buckskin breeches and peeled off her shirt, and when the water molded itself to her body, he groaned inwardly, wishing instead his arms were encircling her. His courteous suggestion had been a mistake, he realized dismally. The sight of Rozalyn's ivory skin, sparkling with tiny water droplets, was hard on his blood pressure. In the waning sunlight her shapely silhouette was like an alluring vision, a dream that lay just beyond reality. Although his body was weary, his craving for this gorgeous naiad was insatiable. He had only to gaze upon her and his obsession with her flooded his mind.

 
Lord, the woman would drive him to an early grave. Hawk plopped down on a fallen log and propped himself upon his Hawken rifle. If he didn't die from wanting this minx, he would die at the hands of Aubrey's henchman . . . because of her. Damnation! Carting Rozalyn off to the wilds had been a foolish deed. Now she was so entangled in his thoughts that he wondered if he could ever rout her without tearing out his heart. She had burrowed deeply into his life, and he could not even view a sunset or a sunrise without also watching its mellow colors caress the exquisite features of Rozalyn's face.

 
Perhaps he should have left her for Half-Head and his merciless braves, Hawk thought sourly. Then his hungry gaze focused on Rozalyn, and he watched her glide across the river like a graceful swan. Dammit, having her with him was turning him inside out. If he had sacrificed this priceless gem to Half-Head, at least he might emerge from this nightmare in one piece. Keeping her with him was like furnishing his own private room in hell. He spent his waking hours craving her, even while they fled from that murdering scoundrel, Half-Head. And if that dreadful threesome caught up with them before they reached the precipices of the Rockies, Rozalyn would probably applaud the attack and encourage Half-Head to make mincemeat of her abductor. Hawk believed that Rozalyn hated him. They had played a risky game with each other's hearts, and he sorely regretted his part in it.

 
For a while, he had actually believed that this cynical enchantress had softened toward him. He had been an arrogant fool. Rozalyn had been laughing at him all the while. He had made her body burn with desire, but he had not been able to tame her wild heart. The blue-eyed imp had remained free as a bird when pursued by the most dashing bachelors in St. Lo
ui
s. If they hadn't won her affection, how the hell did he think he could accomplish that feat in the span of a week? Hawk berated his arrogance. He must have the intelligence of a pine tree to think he could curl this rebellious beauty around his finger.

 
Another agonized groan rattled in Hawk's chest when Rozalyn emerged from the stream. Water ebbed from her bare shoulders and from the provocative peaks of her breasts. Hawk watched in pained torment as the river surrendered up this vision of incomparable loveliness. Beads of water, sparkling like diamonds, danced on her flawless skin, and he felt a wild urge to quench his thirst by kissing her moist flesh. Her body was perfection, her breasts full, her waist trim, her legs long and shapely. God, no man should be forced to endure such a cruel form of torture, Hawk thought as his devouring gaze flooded over the enchantress he longed to caress.