Captive Bride (35 page)

 
"How dare you boast of your conquest!" Rozalyn railed.

 
But words did not wound this big brute, and fuming glares bounced off him. Rozalyn was furious, so furious that she had an urge to throw something. She ached to strike out and hurt him, just as she had been hurt. Snatching up the porcelain pitcher from the crude commode, she hurled it at Hawk. He grunted uncomfortably when the makeshift weapon slammed into his belly, and before he could recover from the first assault or wipe the water from his eyes, a flying night stand collided with his shin.

 
Frantically, Rozalyn's eyes darted around the room, searching for another weapon to hurl. The only object within reach was the cot. She upended it, but before she could shove it at Hawk, he lunged at her. Roughly he caught her to him, and she went into a frenzy. God, how she detested being restrained. Lately someone was always holding her down or tying her up. As his lean fingers dug into her waist Rozalyn reacted instinctively, desperately fighting for her freedom.

 
Hawk swore he had latched on to an enraged wildcat. Rozalyn fought him with every ounce of strength she possessed, clawing at his face, pounding on his chest, leveling blows to his tender shoulder. When he finally managed to restrain her, he jerked her full length against him, restricting all movement.

 
The feel of his heart thudding against her shoulder, of his muscled torso crushing into her, played havoc with her sanity. Rozalyn was on the verge of hysteria. She hated herself for allowing Hawk to upset her so.

 
"Let me go! I detest your touch," she choked out, finding it virtually impossible to fight back her tears. She wanted to be anywhere except in the confining circle of Hawk's arms. She despised him for suppressing her with his superior strength.

 
"I am not releasing you until you calm down." Hawk clamped his arms more tightly about her when she writhed for freedom.

 
"And I will not calm down until you let me go!" Rozalyn hissed back at him.

 
Again tears threatened. Hawk's manhandling was the last straw, and suddenly she was sobbing, frustration causing her to shudder uncontrollably. Rozalyn didn't want Hawk to see her cry, but she couldn't help herself.

When she succumbed to tears, Hawk's fierce grip eased and he cradled her in his sinewy arms, his hands gently massaging away her tension. Kissing away her tears, he murmured soft words of compassion. And Rozalyn cried all the more, sobbing like an abandoned child, releasing the pent-up anger that had claimed her.

 
"I did leave you with the Sioux for your own protection," Hawk whispered against the trim column of her throat. "I tried to set a trap for Half-Head, but he didn't come. When I returned to the fort Chumani offered herself to me, but I refused her. Do you hear me, Roz? I did not touch her. Nor did I invite her kiss." He sighed heavily and then cupped Rozalyn's tear-stained face in his hands. A faint smile brimmed his lips when he felt Rozalyn's rigid body relax against his. "I did not invite the kiss," he repeated. "I was waiting for this. . . ."

 
His lips took hers, devouring yet savoring the sweet taste of her. Rozalyn wanted to believe his quiet words, but she didn't dare. A lifetime ago she had trusted him and he had betrayed her. Time had not erased the pain of lost love and she was afraid to surrender to emotion again, afraid of experiencing the same anguishing hurt and disillusionment. Her attraction to him was purely physical, she tried to tell herself. One day, when this ordeal was over, she would forget the way it was between them, forget the power Hawk held over her body.

 
Hawk was possessed by the same gnawing hunger that overwhelmed him each time he dared to touch this shapely nymph. He must be mad to crave a woman who detested him so. Why couldn't he and Rozalyn just enjoy each other as they had that first night in St. Lo
ui
s?
 
Why rehash the past? Hawk asked himelf. He and Rozalyn could never go back. There was too much distrust, there were too many conflicts now. They were both too stubborn and headstrong to compromise, and perhaps the dream they had once shared had been born of pretense. They had been actors in a play, living their roles. They had become infatuated too soon and they had allowed themselves to be swept up in a fantasy. Hawk told himself these things, but that didn't stop him from wanting Rozalyn, madly, passionately.

 
Even while Hawk was mentally listing all the reasons why they were wrong for each other, why they could never come to terms, he was holding her in his arms. He craved the honeyed taste of her lips, the sweet fragrance that was so much a part of her. He ached for this blue-eyed witch who could weave spells about him, make him forget reality.

 
Rozalyn could feel the tension draining from her body. She cursed herself for yielding to Hawk's embrace, but she could not bring herself to reject him. His touch was magic. It always had been. Now he was consoling her in his own way, and Rozalyn needed his strength. She needed to become whole and strong again, so she could face the trials ahead of her.

 
Her arms slid around his shoulders, and her head rested against his bare chest. For a long, quiet moment they held each other. It was a silent apology of sorts. Rozalyn was ashamed of herself for throwing a tantrum and Hawk berated himself for not having more clearly explained his reasons for sending Rozalyn to Chief Zitkatanka. She would not have been in such a fit of temper if he hadn't taunted her about trading her for hunting rights. Why was it so difficult to be honest with her? What was he afraid of? Of course, Rozalyn had told him she detested him so many times that he had come to expect condemnation from her. But wasn't he man enough to admit that he was guilty of employing the same tactic? Perhaps he and Rozalyn simply brought out the worst in each other. Perhaps they could never enjoy a compatible existence. They were too much alike although in some respects they were very different.

 
"I made a spectacle of myself at the Sioux camp." Rozalyn muffled a sniff. "I'm sure the chief thinks I am possessed by demon spirits."

 
Hawk chuckled softly. "I think Zitkatanka admires your spirit . . . but he prefers to do so from a safe distance." His fingers absently combed through the tangled tresses that streamed over Rozalyn's shoulders. "I am as much to blame for your behavior as you are. If I had told you I wished to keep you safe from Half-Head instead of leading you to believe I had bartered you, perhaps—"

 
"I still would have protested," Rozalyn finished for him. Slipping from Hawk's encircling arms, she turned her back on him and wiped away the last of her tears. "You were right about me, Hawk. I am spoiled and set in my ways. I don't appreciate being ordered about, and I am not accustomed to taking commands without question. My father expected nothing of me, nor I of him. I have long been in control of my life, just as you have. It is not easy to change." A demure smile touched her lips as she slowly turned back to face Hawk. "It is true, you know. Chumani would not cause you as much trouble. She is shy, retiring, and submissive. I can never be any of those things. I have grown up like an untended wild flower. And as much as you may disapprove of the way I am, I cannot—will not—change," she softly amended. Raising beseeching blue eyes, Rozalyn met Hawk's solemn expression. "Please let me go. Let's end this constant feud for dominance. You and I have brought each other nothing but trouble. Let Jonas take me back to St. Lo
ui
s. I will pay him well for the time he cannot trap in the mountains."

 
"No," Hawk said flatly. "Your father owes the trappers a long-standing debt. You are all I have to bargain with."

"Is that all I mean to you? Do you see me as no more than a gambit?" Rozalyn tilted her chin and summoned her composure. "Look again, Hawk. I am not a possession to be bartered and sold for your purpose. I have feelings and you have trampled all over them."

 
"I once told you that you meant far more to me than a pawn to be played to my advantage, but you rejected me," Hawk muttered sourly. "Don't press me for a confession. I'll not make that same mistake again."

 
"I rejected you?" Rozalyn echoed incredulously. "That is not at all what happened and you damned well know it. You were playing a game with me, using me, maneuvering me for your purpose. Do you expect me to thank you for that?"

 
"Should I thank you?" Hawk parried, his voice carrying an undertone of sarcasm. "Perhaps I should refresh your memory,
cherie
. I apologized for what happened with your father and you said it made little difference because you had professed love just to keep me dangling from a string to suit your purpose."

 
"I only said those things because I was hurt by your use of me to gain favors from my father," she argued defensively. "When I said I loved you I—" Rozalyn slammed her jaw shut before her tongue outdistanced her brain.

 
Hawk's expression became stone sober. "Are you admitting that you did love me?" he asked point-blank.

 
Rozalyn had vowed never to speak those words again, not unless she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hawk felt some deep affection for her. She still didn't have the faintest idea where she stood with this reckless mountain man, and she was too proud and stubborn to bare her heart again. It was too soon to risk having her mending heart broken again.

 
"I thought I was ... in the beginning." Rozalyn carefully chose her words. Presenting her back to him, she stared at the opposite wall. She was afraid to look Hawk squarely in the eye, afraid he could decode her emotions. "But what I feel most of all now is bitterness and betrayal. I can never love a man I cannot trust, and I would never know when you might turn on me."

 
"Those are my sentiments exactly." Hawk laughed without humor. "You saved my life once. I cannot imagine why, for you have repeatedly threatened to do me bodily harm." Hawk raked his fingers through his tousled hair and then let his arm drop loosely at his side. "And don't ask me why I have this fierce instinct to protect you from Half-Head, an instinct that runs deeper than my own need for survival."

 
Heaving a sigh, Rozalyn pivoted to face him. A rueful smile grazed her lips as her index finger traced the stubble on Hawk's jaw. "Does it mean so much to have my father deal fairly with your friends?"

 
Her gentle touch turned Hawk to mush. He felt like a growling panther being soothed and stroked into purring with satisfaction. His reaction to this quick-tempered vixen truly baffled him. How could he be so furious with her one minute and so content the next? She had managed to drive him mad somewhere between St. Lo
ui
s and Fort William, and she still had him swinging back and forth, on an emotional pendulum, between passion and fury. He wondered if he would be capable of rational thought, after they had gone their separate ways. He had grown accustomed to contrasting sensations, to the fine line between love and hate, madness and sanity. When Rozalyn finally walked out of his life how would he function? Where would he find such a challenge? The threat of constant danger in the wild did not lure him as strongly as this blue-eyed temptress.

 
Hawk had awakened each day during the past two months, wondering when and how he and Rozalyn would clash, trying to determine how to deal with her. When she was gone, how could he greet the dawn sky that reminded him of her blue eyes? How could he face the sunset when it reminded him of the warmth of her smile? Finally, Hawk pushed aside his troubled contemplations and circled back to her question.

 
His lean fingers folded around her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I made a vow, Roz. I promised my fellow trappers better treatment at the summer rendezvous. It is a vow I cannot break. Too many lives have been lost for too little. One day soon I hope you will understand why your father's dealings are so important to me."

 
His strong loyalty to the trappers who faced the hazards of the wild touched Rozalyn's heart. She wished Hawk felt that same strong loyalty to her, but she was glad she was beginning to comprehend how much he loved the life he led. This vast and often perilous wilderness was a part of him. It was in his blood. How could she hope to compete with his love of it. Could she burrow into a heart that belonged to towering mountains and fertile meadows?
 
I can't, Rozalyn realized sadly. She could remain at Hawk's side, taking the passion he offered, learning to respect her competition; but she could not take the mountains from this awesome man who was half-wild, half-civilized. Resigning herself to the bleak truth, she expelled a heavy-hearted sigh. Her lot in life was to love this rogue with the dancing green eyes and shiny raven hair. She would go on loving him from a distance, knowing she could never have him all to herself, but that was like trying to grasp a handful of moonbeams.

 
Perhaps it was best to share her life with Hawk until it was time for them to part. And when they went their own ways, she could only hope that a warm memory of her would linger in his heart. Perhaps, now and then, he would remember her. Maybe he would smile quietly to himself as he recalled how fiercely they had fought and how wildly they had loved.

 
Her lashes fluttered up, and misty blue eyes sketched his craggy features, adoring the unique way smile lines splayed across his face. "Then I shall help you keep your vow to your friends," Rozalyn promised softly. "I will become your pawn if you can afford my price."