Authors: Carol Finch
"I called upon the geyser to aid me in my attempt to convince you that only my embrace causes the earth to move beneath you," Hawk chortled softly. "The Crow claim these eruptions are the spirits of the springs speaking to the inhabitants of Mother Earth."
"And what are the spirits saying?" Rozalyn questioned while she watched the pool gurgle and then shoot forth another hot stream.
A roguish grin melted Hawk's rugged features, making his eyes sparkle like polished emeralds. "The spirits say only a fool would not take advantage of a lady like you in a
place like this." His amusement dimmed and his expression sobered as he tilted her face to peer into her breathtaking pools of blue. "Strange, I thought I had to leave you to come to terms with the future or find a way to change it to suit me. But tomorrow seems a thousand years away when I have you in my arms."
His lips rolled over hers, and their breaths intermingled. Rozalyn was certain it was no freak event of nature that caused the sky to turn as black as pitch and the earth to shudder when Hawk molded their bodies together and kissed her with all the pent-up emotion churning within him. Her mind clouded, and her body arched to seek ultimate intimacy. She knew only that she needed Hawk, that he was a magician who could perform miracles.
Hawk's male body instantly roused to the feel of her shapely curves. His eager hands rediscovered her sensitive places, making her experience the same ardent need that seized him as his lips abandoned hers to blaze a trail of white-hot fire across her throat. AH the riches of this westernmost frontier meant nothing in comparison to the rapturous emotions that engulfed him when he lost himself in the feel and scent of the woman in his arms. Hawk soared, momentarily forgetting what awaited him at his journey's end—the agony of loneliness—for here . . . here in the circle of Rozalyn's arms was a euphoric paradise into which reality could not intrude.
A sigh of pleasure tripped from Rozalyn's lips when Hawk divested her of her clothes and drew her to the ground. Breathless, she eagerly explored his sinewy strength. While his wandering hands swam across her bare skin, she returned each tantalizing caress, each fervent kiss, and as their need for each other rose to a crescendo they came together in breathless urgency, hearts thundering in perfect rhythm, bodies singing in harmony with love's precious music.
Their weeks of wanting converged as they scaled passion's mountain, soaring above the steaming springs and bubbling rivers, and their lovemaking blocked out their apprehensions about the future. While time hung suspended, Rozalyn explored the heights and depths of love, gliding on pinioned wings to pursue each ineffable sensation. Then it was as if a universe of emotions collided, sweeping her up into soul-shattering sensations. Her body quaked as indescribable pleasure spilled over her and trickled into every part of her being.
Instinctively, she clung to Hawk, her nails biting into the corded tendons of his back, as a whimper escaped from her. Then she buried her face against his shoulder, waiting for the wild, sweet sensations to ebb and leave her to mindless bliss.
In the aftermath of love, Hawk reared his head, marveling at the passion that blazed up when he took Rozalyn in his arms. It had always been like this between them, he mused, bending to press yet another kiss to her sensuous lips. Time might dim his memories, but Hawk knew if he returned to St. Louis months, even years, after he and Rozalyn parted, the flame of their love would burn just as brightly. It would take only one glance in her direction to ignite it. How many years would pass before they could be together again without inviting Aubrey Dubois' fury? A score, a score and ten? Would Hawk spend his days, waiting for Aubrey to meet his Maker, waiting until the one obstacle that stood between them had vanished from the face of the earth? Hitherto, Hawk had wished death on only one man—Half-Head, a merciless murderer who had lived and died by the blade. Only a spineless coward would await the end of another human being before he walked in to claim his most treasured possession.
Dammit, why couldn't he think of a way to work out his future? Never in his life had he backed down from adversity. Instead, he had played every situation to his advantage. But at this most important time in his life he was floundering like a witless fool. There must be a feasible way to defeat Aubrey and still grant the hardworking trappers their just reward. He must approach the problem calmly, rationally. Where was the answer for which he so desperately searched?
Flinging aside his depressing thoughts, Hawk focused his attention on the bewitching nymph in his arms. He had pondered for two long weeks to no avail. Now Rozalyn was with him, and he was not about to waste one moment of their precious time. Mustering what was left of his strength, he rolled to his feet and drew Rozalyn up beside him. With her small hand clasped in his, he weaved his way around the bubbling mud pots to a spring-fed whirlpool. Scooping Rozalyn into his arms, he walked into the warm bath.
A soft sigh escaped her lips when the tepid water swirled around her. "Forgive me for doubting the existence of spirit springs," Rozalyn murmured, and twisting free, she eased onto her back to drift with the circling current. "Colter's Hell?" Her easy laughter tickled Hawk's senses and called to him like a siren from the sea. "The name is most inappropriate. This must surely be paradise."
Hawk was certain of it. And, strangely enough, he was sure he was watching a mermaid cut through the water. Among Rozalyn's other unusual talents, it appeared she could swim like a fish. He watched in awe as she disappeared beneath the surface like a bird diving into the water to claim its prey. Then, like a geyser bursting forth from a peaceful pool, she resurfaced, only to dive from his sight.
Never had Hawk felt so whole and alive. When he touched this enticing mermaid's skin and stared into those beguiling blue eyes, he hadn't one dismal thought, and his heart stirred.
When Rozalyn swam between his legs and then emerged to melt in his arms, Hawk's meandering thoughts became fixed on her. He looked into bright blue eyes and saw his world. Following her lead, he dived into the pool, to give chase to the elusive mermaid who had slipped from his arms to return to the spring from which she had come. Like two playful children, they frolicked in the water while the sun made its slow descent across the sky, Hawk plunging into the whirlpool to grasp Rozalyn's ankle and then towing her down with him, his powerful arms enfolding her and his lips seeking hers as they sank onto the spring's bed. When they burst back to the surface for a breath of air, Rozalyn giggled giddily as they bobbed in the tepid pool.
"Do you suppose my friends in St. Louis will think me mad when I tell them of a land of spewing fountains and hot springs?" Suddenly her voice trailed off and the carefree smile faded from her lips.
Her unthinking remark had shattered the spell. She drifted from Hawk's arms and waded ashore. Reluctantly, Hawk followed in her wake to don the clothes he'd discarded in their moment of passion.
"I suppose Arakashe told you the legend of Whispering Falls," he said, assisting Rozalyn onto her paint pony.
She nodded slightly, watching in admiration as Hawk, with lion like grace, leaped upon his own mount. "But I still do not understand why he brought me to the Yellowstone to relate the legend. Does it have something to do with me and my father?"
"A great deal, I'm afraid," Hawk grumbled. "I forced Bear-Claw to tell me what happened so many years ago.”
Rozalyn swallowed the lump in her throat. She could tell by the somber expression on Hawk's face that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear, yet she had waited a long time to learn the cause of her father's bitterness.
Reining the steed to the north, Hawk led Rozalyn through the winding passes, unfolding the story Bear-Claw had confided in him. "When Lewis and Clark made their first expedition into Louisiana Territory, Lyndon Baudelair and Aubrey DuBois went along to map the region. My father saw the wild, natural beauty of this land, but Aubrey viewed the region as a place where wealth was to be gained from fur trading. During the years Aubrey and Lyndon spent together, they became confidants and friends. It was in the land of the Crow that your father met Bitshipe, my grandfather's only child."
The color seeped from Rozalyn's cheeks. Bitshipe, the lovely maid from the legend of Whispering Falls, was Arakashe's daughter? Her eyes flew back to Hawk and she hung on his every word, fearing the truth was going to be far worse than she had imagined.
"When Aubrey and Lyndon wintered with the Indians, they were accepted into the tribe and given Crow names as proof of their friendship between red man and white. Aubrey fell in love with Bitshipe, but he was not prepared to sacrifice his dream of a fur empire. After the first winter he left my father in charge of Bitshipe, requesting that Lyndon protect her and prevent her from marrying another man until he returned from St. Louis.
"Although Bitshipe admired Aubrey and his ambitious quest, she fell deeply in love with the man who had remained behind to protect her." Hawk's gaze focused intently on Rozalyn who had begun to piece together the legend before he could explain it.
"Both men loved the same woman—your mother," Rozalyn put in.
Hawk nodded grimly. "Lyndon, or Wapike as he was known to the Crow, became Bitshipe's constant shadow. Although my father had promised to keep Bitshipe safe for another man, he was drawn to her by a compelling attraction. A full year passed and Aubrey did not return, nor did he send word that he had safely reached St. Louis to carry out his fur-trading plan. They began to wonder if he had met with disaster as he'd ventured alone through the wilderness. After waiting throughout the summer, my father and Bitshipe gave Aubrey up for lost and they became man and wife as they'd longed to do. They had planned to explain their affection for each other to Aubrey when he returned, but he hadn't come." A faint smile lightened Hawk's somber visage as his eyes drifted to the distant plateau high above the Valley of the Elk. Gesturing to the east, he called Roz's attention to the murmuring falls that could be heard from a distance. "For a year my parents lived and loved as if the sun shone only for them. My father was content to make his home among the Crow, to live off a land that was rich in beauty and bountiful in game. He had no inclination to return to St. Louis, to the refinement of civilization. When Bitshipe bore him a son, he thought his life complete. In the spring Bitshipe coaxed my father into venturing to the Valley of the Elk to ask Morningstar for his blessing. She had grown to love that magnificent area of the mountains, and was certain that particular valley was Morningstar's paradise.
In the meantime, Aubrey had made his way back to the Crow village. When he could not locate Bitshipe or his trusted friend Lyndon, he sought out Arakashe. Upon learning that he had been given up for dead and that the two he sought had wed and spawned a child, Aubrey was furious. He did not hold Bitshipe responsible, but he blamed my father for betraying him. Although Arakashe tried to stop Aubrey, he followed my parents to the Valley of the Elk, and when he saw the two of them in each other's arms, he was like a madman." Hawk paused a moment, allowing Rozalyn to recall the tragic incident on the precipice above Whispering Falls. "Arakashe told you how the argument ended. The woman Lyndon and Aubrey truly loved was killed because of their battle over her. It was Aubrey who shoved Bitshipe aside so she plummeted from the towering ledge, and the accident nearly destroyed him as well. He could not forgive himself for taking her life, and he hated my father for marrying her. When he spied Arakashe sitting atop his steed on the summit, he knew he had fallen from the Crow's good graces and he fled back to St. Louis to build his vast fur trade.
"For years your father has harbored a hatred that has poisoned him. He and Lyndon Baudelair have not seen each other in thirty years, but Aubrey has never forgiven my father for that betrayal. And your father has never forgotten Rose Blossom. He even chose for his own daughter the name of the woman he could never have. No doubt, you continue to remind him of her. Rose Blossom . . . Rozalyn." Hawk murmured the names so softly that they could almost have been one and the same.
Finally, Rozalyn understood her father's remoteness, his inability to love her or her mother. Aubrey had married and produced an heir because he'd felt it his obligation to do so. After all, he had established a fur empire. He had married Jacqueline but he had never been able to love her, not the way he'd loved the Crow maiden, so he had thrown himself into his work to try to forget the woman who had died because of his rage. And his hatred for the Baudelairs had festered, while the bittersweet memory of Rose Blossom had lived on in her namesake— Rozalyn.
Her father continued to relive the heart-wrenching tragedy that kept him from loving again, Rozalyn thought. Aubrey had given his only daughter the wealth he could never lay at Rose Blossom's feet, but he'd withheld the love he would have freely given the Crow maiden. Aubrey had wanted it all—loyal friendship from Baudelair, immense wealth, and Bitshipe's vow to wait, no matter how long. But the Crow maiden had loved another and that knowledge had driven Aubrey to the brink of insanity.