Captive Bride (46 page)

 
"When we camp for the night, remind me to finish were we left off," Hawk murmured, his voice heavy with passion. Reluctantly, he withdrew, suddenly finding the winter chill hadn't been so noticeable when he was wrapped in Rozalyn's arms. "Damned if you don't have the uncanny knack of making me forget my purpose, minx." Hastily, he brushed off the snow that clung to her buckskin clad body.

 
Her adoring eyes took in the dashing mountain man in the long buffalo-hide coat. "You are a fine one to speak of distraction," she teased, following his path through the heavy snow. "I was innocently forming angels in the snow to scare off evil spirits when I was bodily attacked by one."

 
Like a sparrow hawk swooping down on its prey, Hawk jerked Rozalyn into his arms and then planted her on the back of her horse. "A devil, am I?" he snapped in mock irritation.

"The devil himself," Roz declared.

 
Hawk's hand leisurely glided over her thigh to caress her hip and then tunneled beneath her coat to make arousing contact with her bare flesh. Then a wicked grin rippled across his lips, displaying pearly white teeth. "Tonight . . . when we are huddled around the campfire, I will hear you beg for my so-called attack,
cherie
," he prophesied in a seductively low voice.

 
Rozalyn felt herself grow warm and giddy inside as his roving hands wandered possessively over her. Her eyes remained upon him as he drew away and then swung into his saddle to sit straight and proud upon his steed. He looked like a god. The wild nobility in his dark features touched her soul and warmed her heart, and the confident way he carried himself stirred her emotions, bringing tears to her eyes as she followed him down the mountain. She turned in the saddle to get one last glimpse of the rustic cabin in the Mountains of the Wind. She was leaving a multitude of sweet memories behind. In her mind's eyes she could see them cuddled close by the fire, talking quietly together or sewing clothes from the animal skins they had hunted and cleaned. Hawk had taught her Indian games, and they had played them on leisurely days when weather permitted. He had told her of his life among the Crow and he'd spoken of the beliefs of his mother's people, holding her spellbound with his tales. They had roamed the mountains in search of game, had endured a ground blizzard in a small lean-to beneath a canopy of pines, had played cards during the long evenings, and had made wild sweet love during the nights.

 
Hawk had touched her every emotion, and Rozalyn had learned to read his many moods. She knew when he was restless, wanting to wander, and when he craved no more than her silent presence beside him or the feel of her body molded to his. And Hawk had come to know when she needed to be left alone and when she longed to feel secure and protected in his embrace. They had grown together, learned the true meaning of love and companionship, and they rarely spoke of the upcoming summer. They had preferred to exist in their fairyland, living as if there were no tomorrow. Although the mountains were filled with danger, they also brought them contented peace. Rozalyn was no longer trying to change her destiny. She knew her father would insist that she return with him to St. Louis, and knowing that, she had seen to it that every hour she spent with Hawk was a cherished treasure.

 
As they made their way down the snow-clogged ravines, she kept glancing back over her shoulder at the cabin, and she was dying a little inside. She knew she would never pass this way again and that tormenting thought was crushing her, leaving her no hope.

 
Muffling a sniff and managing a meager smile, Rozalyn raised her face to Hawk's when he grasped her hand. His eyes drifted back in the direction her gaze had taken and he sighed heavily.

 
"The memories are sweet,
amie
, the best. . . ." His pensive stare measured the towering aspens and pines that reached toward the clear morning sky. "But we have half a lifetime yet to live in the meadows of Yellowstone." His head came toward hers as he stretched across to press a light kiss to her responsive lips. "Don't leave me, Roz. Don't withdraw into the past, not yet. That time is coming soon enough."

 
Mustering her courage, Rozalyn forced a wider smile, drawing upon his strenth, his ability to face the future without dwelling on the past. "Tell me about Fort Cass. Is it like Fort William?"

 
Nudging his steed, Hawk led the way down the snow-covered slopes. "It is similar in some ways," he acknowledged, thankful Rozalyn had changed the subject. He didn't want to think about what they were leaving behind. His secluded cabin would become a sepulcher of forbidden memories all too soon. "The stockade was established in 1832. It is set on the meadow where the Big Horn River empties into the Yellowstone. The trading post was built to barter with the Crow." A wry smile pursed his lips when he glanced over at Rozalyn. Hawk drank in her natural beauty, which was evident despite her manly garb. One look into her flawless face and no one would be able to resist this gorgeous creature. "I expect you will meet some of my unruly friends when we reach the fort. We will rest there before setting our spring traps in the Yellowstone."

 
"In the land of the magic springs? Where spirits dwell in
  
the
 
warm,
  
steamy
 
baths?"
  
Rozalyn
 
taunted.
  
"I suppose my ear will be bent with more fantastic stories of glass mountains, boiling rivers, and talking beavers that befriend lonely trappers."

 
Hawk chuckled at the skepticism in her voice. "No doubt you will. You know how superstitious we mountain men are."

 
"And lusty," Rozalyn added with a mischievous grin. "Will I be in need of a large stick to fight off these mountain dragons?"

 
That thought soured Hawk's disposition. He could well imagine the reception that awaited Rozalyn when his rambunctious comrades laid eyes on a white woman, especially one as bewitching as she. Making a mental note, Hawk vowed to ensure that Rozalyn was well armed, in case she was swarmed by overzealous trappers at the fort.

 
"Do not be surprised if such an event should occur," he warned. "My friends appreciate a beautiful woman and I cannot always hold myself responsible for their actions. But I have no doubt that you will be able to fend for yourself. You never had difficulty keeping me at a safe distance when we first met."

 
I never had difficulty holding a man at bay until you came along, Rozalyn silently amended. If his idea of being stifled was to be denied pleasure for a day after making a lady's acquaintance, Rozalyn hated to venture a guess at the assaults she might anticipate from Hawk's rough-edged comrades. Sweet merciful heavens, she would need a suit of armor. As another thought crossed her mind, Rozalyn focused narrowed eyes on the handsome trapper who rode by her side.

 
"What will you be doing while I am fighting off this swarm of men who have had very little association with white women in recent years? I suppose there is another Indian maiden waiting, at Fort Cass, to massage your weary muscles."

 
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" A roguish grin caught one corner of his mouth, curving it upward.

 
"Do I have a reason to be jealous?" she asked point-blank.

 
Hawk reined his steed to an abrupt halt. With one quick move he uprooted Rozalyn from her mount and transplated her onto his lap. The passionate kiss he proceeded to bestow on her left her body tingling with pleasure. "Does that answer your question?"

 
Rozalyn hastily drew in air when Hawk granted her a breath. Then she composed herself and looped her arms over his shoulders, flashing him an impish grin. "I fear I wasn't paying close attention, would you mind repeating that?"

 
Hawk returned her contagious smile. "Not at all." Lord, he loved to watch the sunlight sparkle in her blue eyes, to feel her petite body brushing suggestively against his. He could lose himself in the tantalizing fragrance that was so much a part of her. "For you,
amie
, anything. . . ."

 
His arms tightened, seeking an intimacy that was impossible with their hindering garments, and his lips grazed hers in a gentle whisper of a kiss before they settled firmly upon hers. A need as ancient as time accosted him when his mouth slanted over Rozalyn's, impelling his wandering hand to slip beneath her jacket and trace the band of her breeches, then swirl across her hips.

 
Suddenly Rozalyn couldn't remember where they were or why. Her body had forgotten it had a brain. She was ardently responding, eager for his touch. Nothing had changed between them. The fire of passion burned just as brightly as it had on those nights in his cabin, as intensely as it had that first night so long ago. Time had not diminished their flame. It blazed anew each time they lost themselves in the circle of each other's arms.

 
Hawk was yanked back to reality when his overloaded steed stumbled in a deep snowbank, and a squawk of surprise tumbled from Rozalyn's lips when she found herself sailing through the air. As she landed atop Hawk's belly, he expelled a pained grunt and then flashed his horse a disgruntled frown.

 
"I think it best to ride single until we descend to the meadows," he advised as he hoisted Rozalyn to her feet. "My mount doesn't seem to appreciate our dallying on his back while he is having difficulty navigating through these snow drifts."

 
A becoming blush stained her cheeks because she felt a mite foolish, but when Hawk pulled her into his arms, she lost all track of time and place.

 
A moment she stood there, knee deep in snow, before Hawk scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, playfully swatting her derriere. "We are making miserable time," he grumbled. "At this pace we won't reach the fort for a month."

 
When he had set Rozalyn back on her own horse, she flung him a wry smile. "You cannot blame the delay on me. I was sitting on my steed, minding my own business," she reminded him saucily.

 
Hawk's dancing green eyes raked her concealed figure as if she were poised before him without a stitch of clothing. "The fault still lies with you," he insisted. "If you weren't so distracting I wouldn't have difficulty keeping my hands off you."

 
"My fault?" she repeated increduously. My, but he could twist logic until it made no sense at all. "I did nothing to entice you or distract you," she protested self-righteously.

 
He gave her a long, provocative look that assured her he liked what he saw and would have no aversion to doing more than gazing at her if they were elsewhere. "Your being here is enticement enough," he growled seductively, and then he let loose with a wolfish cry.

 
As Hawk eased his steed down the snow-blanketed slope, a pleased smile rippled across Rozalyn's lips. Lord, his rakish grin and the suggestive tilt of his eyebrows had sent a tingle along her spine. A longing sigh tripped from her lips as she studied Hawk's departing back. No matter how long she lived, she would never forget his hawkish stares and devilish grins. But those were only two of the things that would warm her' memories, she mused pensively. For years to come she would remember their first meeting, their first splendrous night. In the beginning, Hawk had refused to consider her a friend as well as a lover. But time and the trials they'd undergone had drawn them closer. They had shared more than passion. Their blossoming love had bound their minds as well as their hearts, and as they had come to know each other's moods, they had confided their innermost thoughts. And yet... A troubled frown knitted Rozalyn's brow. Beneath Hawk's playful raillery and amorous assaults, she sensed that he was withholding something.

 
At times he seemed miles away, as if he were grappling with some disturbing vision. When she had questioned him, he had shrugged off his deliberations and had quickly pursued another subject. Rozalyn wanted no secrets between them, not even one, but Hawk seemed to prefer to keep this one dilemma to himself. -Was he pondering the future? Was he planning his confrontation with Aubrey? Or was he harboring some past pain?

 
Rozalyn's meandering thoughts scattered when they descended from the snowy summits to find that spring indeed graced the mountain meadows. Across the sprawling pastures a herd of bison grazed on the tender new sprigs of grass, and the chatter of birds filled the air, serenading them as they made their way toward the junction of the Bighorn and Yellowstone Rivers.

The spectacular scenery momentarily made Rozalyn forget their days were numbered. This was a breathtaking paradise. She spent her nights in the rapturous circle of Hawk's arms and viewed the grandeur of nature while they tracked their way north. Although Hawk had spotted a hunting party of Blackfoot, they had managed to take cover in the thick underbrush before being discovered. That had been their only near-brush with calamity since they'd left the cabin. Rozalyn was most grateful that they had emerged unscathed for Bear-Claw had told her stories about the ruthless Blackfoot tribe that prowled the wilderness.

 
One evening while they crouched before the campfire, she peered off into the distance and sighed contentedly. She sat comfortably between Hawk's muscled legs, her head resting against his sturdy shoulder. Hawk, who had propped himself against the mound of saddles and supplies, was enjoying the peaceful serenity as he hugged Rozalyn. He followed her gaze past the snow-capped precipices that glowed like silver in the full moonlight. The tranquil setting had a soothing effect on him until an unsettling thought darted through his mind and he flinched involuntarily. He had traversed this unclaimed territory at least a dozen times in the past, but the journey had never been as pleasurable as it was with Rozalyn by his side. How in God's name would he be able to follow this trail again without remembering? Each sight would recall Rozalyn's shapely silhouette. Her memory would linger, not only in his cabin, but also in every valley and atop every pastel-colored summit.