Authors: Carol Finch
Bear-Claw was not intimidated by the threat. With a forceful tug he pulled on his share of the fur quilt, leaving the right side of Hawk's tense body bare. "Ungrateful oaf," he snorted, burrowing deeper into the cozy warmth of the bed. "But for me, you would have been a dead man this afternoon. That Blackfoot had every intention of burying his hatchet in your back."
"You were a lot of help," Hawk sniffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What kind of fool ventures into battle with an unloaded rifle? I'm beginning to wonder if my purpose would have been better served if you had taken my enemy's side."
"Go to sleep," Bear-Claw ordered gruffly, giving the quilt another tug when Hawk threatened to pull it away. "You are only pouting because you have to sleep above rather than below. The sooner you learn to keep your hands off that woman the better. You know there can be no future for the two of you. Do you think to send her home with your child to further infuriate her father?"
That possibility stripped Hawk of argument. He had been thinking only of his insatiable craving for his blue-eyed enchantress. Now he wondered if they had already created a child? He didn't want to consider the repercussions. He just wanted Rozalyn in his arms, responding ardently to his kisses and caresses. Dammit, what had happened to the simple life he had known, the good, free life in which he had had to answer to no one but himself?
Grappling with these distressing thoughts, Hawk flounced about, seeking a more comfortable position. But he was unable to find one becuase he was too aware of the shapely nymph who lay abed below. The hours crept by at a snail's pace, and although Hawk begged for sleep, it didn't come. He had dreamed of this night for three torturous weeks. Finally Hawk lost the battle of self-conquest. Carefully, he inched away from Bear-Claw and swung a leg over the loft, his bare foot groping for the rung of the ladder.
But he expelled the breath he had been holding when Bear-Claw propped himself up on an elbow, a mischievous grin on his weathered features. Even in the darkness Hawk could see the ornery mountain goat beaming at him.
"Just where do you think you're going in the middle of the night?"
"As if the varmint doesn't know," Hawk muttered under his breath.
Bear-Claw patted the empty space beside him. "Settle yourself in your nest, Hawk. You aren't going to lay a hand on that girl, not while I'm sleeping under the same roof."
"That can quickly be remedied," Hawk growled spitefully. "The way you're behaving, one would think you were her father." Begrudgingly, he plopped down on the spot he had just vacated.
Refusing to respond to that comment, Bear-Claw flung the quilt over Hawk's puffed chest. "Go to sleep for Christ's sake. Think about something besides your lust for Roz. You are already in so deep, it's going to tear out your heart to let her go."
Mulling over Bear-Claw's remark, Hawk squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to clear his mind. But how does one think of nothing when one is aching to appease an obsessive craving that has preoccupied him for twenty-four days?
While Hawk battled the beast within him, Rozalyn lay on her back, staring at the loft above her. She had heard Hawk and Bear-Claw arguing, and she suspected that the old mountaineer would not tolerate their dallying in the darkness, right under his nose. And just why is that? she wondered. She knew Bear-Claw had become as fond of her as she had become of him. Was he playing the protective father? Unlikely, for Bear-Claw must have known she and Hawk had been intimate during the months they had spent together. How could any woman resist a man like Hawk? Rozalyn had only known him a day before she'd surrendered to him.
Heaving a heavy sigh, she shifted onto her side and willed her eyes to close. Perhaps it was best that she and Hawk kept their distance, the quiet voice of reason said. What future could they have? They could share the winter, but when the summer came, they would be forced to part. Oh, what's the use? Rozalyn thought miserably. She hugged her pillow, knowing it was a pitiful substitute for what she craved. But it was all she had, all she would ever have when Hawk traded her back to her father.
To Rozalyn's dismay, when she woke the wind was whispering down the gullies and a gloomy gray sky was spitting snow. Within an hour the wind was whistling and then it was screaming as it swept across the towering precipices. Bear-Claw turned away from the drafty window, announcing that he couldn't depart during a blizzard. Parking himself in a chair and whittling on a twig, he waited for Rozalyn to prepare their breakfast.
The mere thought that Bear-Claw could be an uninvited guest for many days soured Hawk's testy disposition. Like a pouting child who has not been granted his way, Hawk paced the confines of the cabin, praying the inclement weather would ease before the day was out. Reluctantly, he plopped onto the chair across from Bear-Claw and glared at the intruder.
Ignoring Hawk's blatantly hostile stare Bear-Claw eased back onto his seat. "Did I ever tell you about the time I happened onto glass mountain?"
Hawk rolled his bloodshot eyes, evidence that he had not slept a wink, and chugged his coffee. "At least a dozen times," he grumbled grouchily. "And every time you spin that yarn it becomes more unbelievable."
"But Rozalyn hasn't heard it," Bear-Claw parried, undaunted by Hawk's gruff attempt to silence him. "I was out hunting one spring when I spotted a magnificent antelope grazing in the distance. I crept closer to take careful aim and when I fired, the animal never moved. I knew I couldn't have missed at that range, but neither could I explain why I hadn't wounded my game." After taking a small sip of coffee, Bear-Claw continued with his tall tale. "When I moved closer, the antelope showed no sign of catching my scent. He continued to graze as if he were alone in the meadow. I knelt to steady myself and hen fired again. But again nothing happened. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. By then I was getting frustrated. I checked my rifle to be sure it wasn't misfiring, but there was nothing wrong with it. After my fourth shot with the same baffling results I was getting mad as hell. Had I been drinking I would have sworn I was imagining things, but I was stone sober."
Rozalyn paused from her chore to cast a bemused glance at Bear-Claw. She had heard dozens of the old man's fantastic stories, but this one was the most outrageous of all. "And how did you solve such a dilemma?" she asked. "Was the antelope a mirage?"
Bear-Claw gave his shaggy head a negative shake. "It was no mirage and I wasn't hallucinating. Since I was determined to solve the mystery I grabbed the butt of my rifle and stalked toward my prey, planning to club him over the head, if need be. But lo and behold, I crashed right into an invisible wall. After investigating, I found it to be a transparent mountain that had the effect of a telescope. Why, that antelope was miles away! It was no wonder my rifle didn't faze him."
"Miles," Hawk crowed in disbelief. "The last time I heard that tale it was three shots and half a mile."
"Are you saying I'm exaggerating?" Bear-Claw challenged, proudly drawing himself up in his chair.
"That is exactly what I'm saying," Hawk snorted as he propped his elbows on the table to glare at the old mountain man.
Before the two men came to blows over the authenticity of the far-fetched tale, Rozalyn shoved their plates beneath their noses.
"At least this won't be difficult to swallow." Hawk sniffed sarcastically.
"I don't take kindly to your calling me a liar," Bear-Claw grumbled, taking fork in hand.
"More coffee?" Rozalyn interjected, laying her hand-on Bear-Claw's shoulder to soothe him before he rose to Hawk's taunt.
The older mountain man retracted his claws and lifted his empty cup. "Please." His twinkling eyes settled on the comely beauty who hovered beside him. "Sit down, lass. I think I've neglected to tell you about the time I was attacked by a pack of hungry wolves up in the Yellowstone. I thought I had seen my last sunrise when . . ."
Hawk inwardly groaned as Bear-Claw began to weave another wild tale. He was afraid he and Rozalyn would not enjoy a moment's peace until spring thaw. Bear-Claw would undoubtedly be stranded with them for the duration of the winter. If so, he knew he would become stark raving mad.
And so it went for three, endless days while the ferocious winter storm raged outside the mountain cabin. Hawk became like a man walking on needles and pins. His self-restraint had been jabbed and pricked until it resembled a sieve. He would have given most anything to have the meddling mountain man out from underfoot. And Rozalyn fared no better than Hawk. The days and nights of being so close and yet so far away made her tense and edgy. Each time she brushed past Hawk, caught his male scent and felt the hard warmth of his body tormentingly close to hers, she wanted to scream out her frustration, to run into Hawk's arms and end the agony of wanting.
But while Hawk and Rozalyn prayed for the storm to cease, Bear-Claw was grinning in wicked satisfaction. Hawk was now certain the old coot intended to plant Himself in the cabin for the winter, he did not believe Bear-Claw would return to the isolation of his own shack. The hermit had become a permanent fixture in Hawk's cabin and had seemingly relinquished his claim that a man could enjoy living alone in the mountains.
Finally, after an entire week had passed, Bear-Claw announced, that he needed to return to his cabin. Rozalyn was elated, and she muffled a chuckle as she watched Hawk practically drag Bear-Claw toward the door and into the snowdrift that rose in front of the shack. When the mountain man wormed away and reversed direction to say adieu to Rozalyn, Hawk's mood turned pitch black once again.
Ignoring the annoyed growl behind him, Bear-Claw focused his full attention on Rozalyn's lovely face. Suddenly his own expression became woebegone. "My cabin isn't going to be the same anymore. I had almost forgotten the pleasure of companionship . . . and the beauty of women. You are particularly beautiful." His index finger sketched the delicate line of her jaw and the creamy curve of her cheek before he bent to brush a light kiss to her brow. "Take care of yourself, flatlander. Meeting you has brought a certain warmth back into my heart. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
Rozalyn nodded mutely, allowing a smile to graze her lips. Then she moved toward Bear-Claw to return his farewell embrace. "You are a true friend. I am indebted to you for taking me under your wing and teaching me the ways of the mountains. Hawk and I will anticipate your return visit."
"As long as you wait a month ... or even two," Hawk grumbled, half-aloud.
Paying no heed to Hawk's sarcastic rejoinder, Bear-Claw gave Rozalyn a loving squeeze. "You are going to be a difficult woman to forget. . . ." He sighed and then reluctantly withdrew to pivot away. "Come. Help me saddle my horse, Hawk. No doubt the critter is no more anxious to make this journey than I."
Hawk was only too happy to accommodate his old friend if it would accelerate his departure. When he threw the saddle on the steed's back and tightened the girth, he glanced back over his shoulder to find Bear-Claw staring somberly at him.
"You have been more than a month without Roz, and now you have been living with her only as a friend." Bear-Claw's voice was low and deliberate; his narrowed eyes drilled into the younger man's. "It is best for all involved if you continue on this straight and narrow course for the remainder of the winter."
Hawk rose to his full stature, and he gazed at the rustic cabin from which a thin curl of smoke drifted to mingle with the gray clouds that hung so close to the mountain peaks. "I don't think I can," he breathed defeatedly. "The sight of her leaves me with a craving that I fear nothing can appease."
"And if you don't restrain yourself you will live to regret it ... if you're lucky." Bear-Claw's hand folded over Hawk's slumped shoulder, demanding his undivided attention. "I myself am living proof of what torture forbidden love can wreak. Why do you think I have lived like a hermit? Because I've spent the past few decades trying not to remember what I cannot seem to forget." His rueful gaze swung to the cabin on the hill, and a remorseful smile quivered on his parched lips. "I know what you are feeling for that girl, Hawk. I have been there. I didn't want to fall in love either. God, I fought it with every part of my being. But the longer I stayed with her, the more impossible it became to exercise self-restraint. I knew she wasn't mine to keep, should not have been mine, but we were young and reckless then. We thought love could conquer all."
Bear-Claw laughed bitterly as memories cut into his soul so sharply his bittersweet love affair might have happened only yesterday. Pulling himself into the saddle, he then stared long and hard at his young friend. "I have told you the reason Aubrey cannot forget his past, why he loathes the name of Beaudelair, and of my own connection to this complicated affair. If you are wise, you will profit by the mistakes of others. You can see what torment I have been forced to endure. I exist in a solitary fashion, make very little contact with civilization, and avoid all that might remind me of the past.