Chapter 10
She simply wasn’t going to let him ridicule her, command her, demand his rights, sleep with other women, and emerge to threaten her anew. Skylar crossed her arms over her chest, facing him.
“I’ve nothing to tell you,” she informed him regally.
“Nothing?” he queried, a dark brow arched high.
“Nothing. You seem to know everything already. I wouldn’t dream of trying to correct the assumptions within that arrogant head of yours. If I’ve disturbed you again, I do apologize. It was not my intention. So if you’ll just excuse me…”
She started to move past him, but he caught her wrist. “I don’t excuse you. You came down to be by Father’s coffin. Saying your prayers? For his soul—or your own?”
“Perhaps I’m praying that a large pit will open up in the earth, and you’ll fall into it,” she replied sweetly.
He smiled. “That is a given.”
She narrowed her eyes, staring at him hard. “Perhaps I pray that Colonel Custer will lead an expedition against you, catch you in your war paint taunting some other hapless victim, and riddle you with bullets!”
To her amazement, he started to laugh. “Sorry, my dear.
“Old Curly may have learned Indian country, but he couldn’t trail me even if he had a map in front of him.
But do go on. This conversation might become enlightening.
For what else do you pray? And just what do your prayers have to do with your relationship with my father? What was that relationship?”
She wrenched her arm free. “I saw an elderly man. Being a mystic, I determined that he was more ill than he would let on, that I should marry him as quickly as possible. I have such powers of persuasion that I not only convinced him to marry me, I also caused his heart to stop by the sheer seduction of my smile. But I’m not a very good mystic, am I?
I was unaware that Lord Douglas had a bitter, cruel mixed-race son who liked to dress up in war paint and attack stagecoaches. That is your assumption, isn’t it?”
“Have you something else to give me in its stead?” he asked blandly.
“I’ve told you. I’ll give you nothing!” she promised vehemently. She took another chance at getting past him.
He didn’t stop her this time, and she raced up the stairway to her room.
Still standing in the parlor, Hawk heard her slam the bedroom doors closed. He was certain that she had thrown the bolt.
He shut his eyes.
Why wouldn’t she talk to him?
Worse. Why did it seem that she had gotten so deeply into his blood?
Why did it seem, even now, that his body was wired, hot and burning, that his soul and mind were torn. That he wanted to stay away from her, that he wanted…
The soft flannel gown had hugged her body. The fire had given it the effect of light and shadow as it fell over her form, highlighting curves and movement. Curves he had touched. Movement he knew.
Damn her. He wouldn’t be so swayed.
Damn her.
He would.
She was here as his wife.
Skylar furiously wrenched the covers from the bed and was about to slide into it when the bedroom door suddenly burst open with a violent slam.
Hawk stood there. She stared blankly from him to the doors and realized that his force had easily broken the flimsy bolt.
He had snapped the wood that had surrounded the metal bolt.
His eyes on her, he stepped into the room, drawing the doors closed behind him.
“Can’t sleep, Lady Douglas?” he inquired politely.
“I think I will manage just fine now,” she informed him.
“We’ll see to it. I hadn’t meant to be remiss. Were you ready for bed, you needed only say so.”
He moved about the room, methodically blowing out candles, turning down the flames on the gas lamps.
Only the firelight still glowed when he finished.
He sat at the foot of the bed then, pulling off his boots.
He stood, pulling his shirt over his head.
Skylar remained dead still herself, standing as if frozen, just watching him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded huskily.
“Undressing.”
He unbuckled his belt. His pants fell to the floor with a soft thud and he stepped from them, kicking them aside.
For a moment he stood facing her. She couldn’t keep her eyes from sliding over his body nor, to her own dismay, could she keep from feeling that there was something strangely superb about him.
He stood so very tall, broad shouldered, with his flesh burnished copper by the very pale firelight that danced so lightly upon the nighttime shadows.
A fierce wave of sensation seemed to encompass her, one she fought to throw off.
She crossed her arms firmly over her chest, demanding, “Why?”
“Why? I prefer to sleep naked. I was raised in a tipi, you must realize,” he mocked.
Then tremors shot through her because he was so suddenly at her side, sweeping her off her feet, laying her down upon the bed. He was beside her then, his fingers upon the lace and ribbon of her bodice.
“You can’t do this!” she lashed out as she tried to catch his wrists.
“But I can. I have, and I will.”
“No, you can’t—you can’t just…”
He released her, rolling over to strike a match from the bedside table and relight one of the candles there.
He stared down at her, naked, his flesh glistening, his eyes unfathomable.
He looked far more civilized with clothes on, she decided.
He didn’t touch her as he leaned over her, staring into her eyes.
“Don’t you think it’s a little late for you to be reneging on the marriage agreement? What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.
“The matter with me—I beg your pardon?” she cried, shimmying up to the headboard to put distance between them. “What is not the matter here!”
“The rules were set. You chose not to get an annulment—”
“I chose not to get an annulment? If you wanted one, why didn’t you file papers?” she demanded in return.
“You chose not to get an annulment,” he repeated, seeming to grow angrier. “You chose to be a wife. Now suddenly—”
“Suddenly! There’s nothing sudden here! It’s a wretched situation. Let’s see,” Skylar told him. “Just for starters, I barely know you!”
“You know enough. We got acquainted rather well last night. I know everything I need to know about you.”
“There you have it, Lord Douglas!” she exclaimed. “You think you know everything! You’re rude, presumptuous—”
“Yes, but I’m also your husband. Married to you.
Just as you have willed it that you are my wife.
Our agreements have been made.” He threw up his hands with impatience, and his tone was harsh.
“What do you know of this great western frontier you’ve come upon?
Especially since the war, with the death of so many men back east, women have flocked out here by the scores to husbands they have never before seen to take up the toil and drudgery of eking out an existence on the plains.
You’ll not have to get a single blister.
But I promise you, those husbands have not brought their wives west so that they may sleep apart. ”
There never seemed to be any arguing with him, she thought rebelliously. She felt the rise of tears coming hot to the backs of her eyes. She fought them, her chin very high, her voice regal.
“Those husbands want wives. They are surely courteous, while you, Lord Douglas, are one wretched, cold bastard!” she hissed to him.
“Not true. Not true at all. Bear in mind, those husbands knew they were acquiring wives, while I am still in shock over your arrival. No, I don’t want a wife.
I’ve never lied about that, and neither will I forget the very strange circumstances of your arrival and cast flowers at your feet.
Indeed, I did not desire a wife, but I have discovered that I do want the woman I’ve acquired.
Therefore, I am not cold at all, rather, I’m burning. A bastard on fire, if you will.”
“Then very recently heated, I think! This isn’t even your room. You had no intention of coming here until I had the ill fortune to stumble upon you—”
“And how do you know that this isn’t my room?” he demanded, watching her. Then he suddenly smiled. “Ah, you’ve been exploring. Searching my house. Uninvited. So, you’re offended that I didn’t have you taken to my room.”
She shook her head strenuously. “You’re mistaken. I’m offended that you’re in mine.”
“Or are you offended because you suspect others might have been invited to mine?”
“Not at all, if you’d only the good grace to remain there yourself!”
He started to laugh. “Lady Douglas, you are unique, I do grant you that!”
“And you are a presumptuous bastard, I do swear it. Still assuming I somehow wronged your father. Well, I didn’t seduce him into his heart attack. I never slept with him. You surely do know that now for a fact—” She broke off, wanting him gone.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I’ll never tell you anything! Never!”
“Then it seems that what we share in this bedroom must suffice to make us man and wife.”
She cried out in rage and surprise when he moved with ungodly speed, catching hold of her bodice, ripping the white gown cleanly down the center.
She tried to slam her hands against his chest, but he was too quick, catching her wrists, staring at her as she stared back at him. He eased his hold on her wrists.
She shook, still meeting his green gaze, making no move.
“How dare you?” she grated out furiously.
He leaned over her, pinching out the light of the candle with his thumb and forefinger.
Then his body covered her like a blanket, his fingers winding around her wrists and bringing them to her side, exposing her bare flesh to his.
His skin sleek and hot against her own. She felt the pounding of his heart, the ripple and form of muscle.