Chapter 14 #2
“I just…I just want you to believe in me, too.”
He nodded. He picked her up, wet and dripping, held her close to him, heedless of the soaking he was getting from her.
“Hawk?” she murmured insistently.
“I slay all monsters,” he said.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“No matter what they appear to be?”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Just…if I ever ask, give me the same in return.”
“Skylar—”
“I swear, I believe what you say. Believe me in return.”
He didn’t reply. It didn’t matter at the moment. He carried her to the bed, laid her atop it on her stomach. He kissed the entire length of her back, her nape…each little bone, the small of her back, her buttocks, the backs of her knees, of her thighs…
The clean sheets were cool beneath her. The feel of his flesh was fire. The touch of his lips a simmer that brought the blood racing throughout her body. Firelight crackled, the night air was sweet. She was drowning in sensation, sensual comfort…desire.
The firelight flickered. She came atop him, glowing almost as copper as he in the low-burning light.
He stroked her cheek, her collarbone, the valley of her breasts.
“I just have to find a way to be thanked more often,” he murmured.
She smiled. His fingers threaded through the hair at her nape, and she rolled with him. It was their last night in civilization. A reprieve. She allowed the lure of sensation to sweep her into the sweetness of the night.
Morning always came too soon.
Senator Brad Dillman sat in his chair before the fire, staring at the flames. Night had come, but he wanted no other fight within the room. A blanket lay over his legs. He was warm and comfortable. And waiting.
Sabrina had been out, which meant something was going on.
They were sisters, but they were as different as night and day.
Skylar could never control her temper. Sabrina could hide her every thought from the world.
She could play any role asked of her, and at the moment, she was playing the role of dutiful daughter.
At first, Sabrina had obviously been afraid that he’d call the police, report Skylar.
Perhaps even have Pinkertons hunt her down. But now…
Now, she was simply…dutiful.
And waiting. He was damned well aware of it.
He shook his head. Fool girls, they could plot, and they could plan, and they could even run. But they couldn’t run far enough or fast enough.
He heard the door closing downstairs. Very quietly. Sabrina was going out again.
He quickly rolled his wheelchair to the window and saw that Sabrina was indeed hurrying from the house. Furtively, of course. He didn’t allow her to go out alone after dark.
But he certainly intended to let her go this time.
He spun his chair around and rolled quickly down the hallway to Sabrina’s room. He quickly looked over his shoulder. She might well suspect that he would come here, even though she had been very careful not to make him suspicious.
Skylar had always proven to be trouble. He should have gotten rid of her when she was a child.
The idea of killing a child had never disturbed him.
General Sherman himself had said it best in reference to the Indian problem when the soldiers killed little ones by accident or design—nits make lice.
However, with all the accusations she had thrown his way, it had always seemed best to appear the martyred stepfather.
Now she had somehow made good an escape.
He’d had his aides go through every train, ship, and stage schedule available, and they had found no trace of a Connor traveling, or even of a single female.
He didn’t know what she had managed, but one thing was certain—she would send for Sabrina. And when Sabrina went to her…
Well, now she wasn’t a child anymore. But she still hadn’t discovered what she was up against.
He’d find her.
And when he did…
She’d be easier to kill than her honorable damned father.
Where to look…
He smiled suddenly. High. If she’d had correspondence, she would have hidden it high. Where a crippled man couldn’t find it.
He started to laugh.
Thirty minutes later, he was making his own plans for travel.
And though it was late, he was a senator.
He had no difficulty summoning an aide and explaining that it was necessary his telegram get out that night.
He was a part of the government of the United States, a lawmaker.
If there was anything he could do to help his country in the current Sioux situation, he naturally had to become involved, no matter what personal dangers it might entail.
He slept very well that night.
Better than he had slept in a long, long time.
As he drifted into slumber, he imagined proving his power to her, taking his revenge.
He’d find her.
Oh, God, yes! He’d find her. And now he was close, so very damned close…
Bless her! She couldn’t begin to imagine how damned close!
Hawk didn’t seem to require very much sleep. When Skylar awoke, he was up, bathed and dressed, sipping coffee. Late last night, they’d drunk the champagne and eaten the fruit, cheese, and bread on their elegant platter. Skylar still felt exhausted.
Hawk, apparently, did not.
She saw that he was losing patience waiting for her to rise. He was coming toward her. She remembered the less than dignified rap she’d received upon her person the morning before and rolled swiftly away before he could manage a repeat.
“Ah, you are awake.”
“Is it really morning?”
“It was really morning when we actually went to sleep. Now it is really, really morning, and we have to get moving.”
“Yes,” she said. But she rolled again, closing her eyes. A big mistake. That less than gentle pat upon the rear came upon her, resounding in the quiet of the morning.
“Must you do that?” she demanded irately, springing up, clutching the pillow to her chest.
“Well, it does work.”
“Well, I imagine one day it will work equally as well on you.”
“I’m not terribly afraid of such a consequence, since it seems I’m the earlier riser. And I want to start on the way. Sloan and Willow will be anxious if we don’t catch up with them soon.”
“Now, why would they be worried when they might surely realize you spent a night in civilization?”
Something changed within his eyes. They glittered with a hard light once again when they had actually gazed at her with something akin to gentle amusement if not tenderness.
In the pink filtering early morning light, his hair was very sleek and very black, his stance hard, his features chiseled.
He appeared very much the Sioux, and one ready to do battle at the moment.
“We are leaving civilization now,” he said, his tone harsh. He came to her, his fingers threading through her hair. “At long last, into the heart of enemy territory!”
“Are these people your enemies?”
“They are yours, aren’t they?”
She lifted her chin, staring at him. “Do you immediately think the worst of every full-blooded white? Or is it just me?” she demanded.
He smiled slightly, as if he might almost appreciate the humor of his words.
“Things will change,” he assured her. “They will change. I don’t know where you’ve come from, other than that my father found you in Baltimore.” He plucked up one of her hands. “But you’ve never known much hardship.”
“Do you think the only hardship is to be found in the wilderness?” she demanded heatedly.
He arched a brow at her. “Want to tell me about it?”
“I can live with your hardships,” she informed him coolly.
“Ah. Well, then, though I greatly appreciate your present lack of apparel, I’m afraid I must suggest that you put clothing on.
I’ll be in the dining room—I admit to liking morning coffee served to me with cream and breakfast. If you make it down soon enough, I’ll even let you have breakfast as well. ”
“You are truly the finest of husbands.”
“Take it while you can,” he warned her. “Trust me, in Sioux country, things will change.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Absolutely.”
He left the room. Skylar was capable of being very quick—and she knew him well enough to take his threats to heart. The road might well be full of hardships, and she was certain she was as prepared for them as she boasted.
In fifteen minutes, she was downstairs with him in perfect repair, even her hair combed and simply tied back at her nape by a scarf.
She thought that he might offer a glance of approval.
H offered her eggs if she could finish them in another fifteen minutes.
She gave him a smile in return, ordered eggs, bacon, ham, biscuits, and grits.
She managed to eat somewhat daintily—and finish the entire plate within the time he had allotted her.
“Let’s move. I want to catch up with Willow and Sloan before nightfall.”
“Don’t you have to go for the horses?”
“They’re waiting outside.”
“Our bill—”
“Is on account. May we leave?”
They rose to leave the Miner’s Well, assuring Mrs. Smith-Soames on their way out that their accommodations had been excellent. Skylar was certain that the woman was still talking to them when Hawk drew her outside, nearly throwing her atop her roan.
“Come on,” he said.
“Damn you, Hawk!” she grated to him. “You’re in the most terrible hurry in the world until you decide to stop. You were rude to that poor woman—”
“I wasn’t rude. I was on my way.”
Dear God, but he was different by morning. Games were over. Playtime was done. She was furious. She wanted to protest his behavior anew. Now he was like the warrior, the stranger who had abducted her from the stagecoach. His mood and manner were wild.
He could hold her, and she could feel so close to him. So secure.
She could believe that he could keep all monsters at bay.
But now…
She didn’t know him. He was different. He was a different breed.
Before she could offer another protest, though, he gave the roan a slap on the rump and they were suddenly racing out of the raw, tiny village of Gold Town as fast as they had come into it.
She looked back and shivered.
Aware that it was the last of civilization she might see for a very long time.
She was entering a savage land…
With a savage man.
Her husband.