Night Hawk'S Bride (Tyler) (Harlequin Historical Series, No 558) Read online

  “I locked the door. That means I don’t want you here.”

  “You’ve been in there for half an hour.” Anger boomed as he banged on the wood panels, and the entire structure shook.

  Another wave of nausea ripped through her abdomen. Her body shook uncontrollably.

  She vomited again and then endured the dry heaves racking her body over and over. Finally, weak and exhausted, she collapsed against the wall.

  “I’m getting the doctor, Marie.” He sounded in anguish now.

  “I’m coming out.” Somehow, she made her legs obey her. She unlatched the door and tumbled into her father’s strong arms.

  “There now,” he said awkwardly, doing his best. “We’ll get you lying down. You’ll feel better soon.”

  If only the ground would stop moving. She managed to stumble into the house. She had to grab the banister while her father held her steady. She’d never been so grateful to see her bed. She lay down on the cool sheets and the room stopped spinning.

  “There, now. I’ll have Mrs. Olstad send for the doctor.” Henry drew a chair to her bedside. “Maybe I’ll let Ned know you’re ill. He could bring you a gift, a token of his affection.”

  Marie couldn’t believe it. “Ned’s not going to marry me.”

  “Why the hell not? Isn’t my daughter fine enough for him?”

  If she wasn’t feeling ill, she would have laughed. “He’s in love with someone else, I think. Or he’s going to be.”

  “Why did you have to frighten him off, Marie?” Henry pulled the covers to her chin. “I really liked Ned. I wanted him to be the one.”

  “There will be one. I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  A warm feeling filled her, a sweet feeling of being protected. It was a feeling she’d never known before.

  Tears of gratitude burned in her eyes.

  Night Hawk heard the clink of a heavily shod horse against the icy ground. He reined the team of workhorses toward the house, checking to make sure the chains held. The heavy logs they dragged gouged great tracks in the new snow. Meka dashed out of the forest, barking, and sat politely when ordered.

  “It’s not Marie,” he told the dog, who appeared disappointed. “It’s her father.”

  Henry broke through the woods mounted on his powerful gelding. Today he wore heavy layers of wool and waved a gloved hand at the debarked logs piled high near the side of the small cabin. “Looks like you’re building on.”

  “Thought I might think of marrying someday. A wife might appreciate more than a three-room house.”

  “Good thinking.” Henry nodded in approval. “That’s why I insist on roomy houses for my married officers. Not that everyone accepts my philosophy, but if you keep the wife feeling content with her surroundings, then there’s little reason for discord.”

  Night Hawk felt a wave of sadness for the colonel. For all his career success, he had very little personal happiness. “Keeping a wife happy is important.”

  “You’re sensible, Night Hawk. But take my Marie for instance. She’s used to genteel living. After her mother died, she lived with her aunt, who was a real lady. Marie is used to a comfortable life, and what does she want? Instead of wanting a husband who can better her life, she spends half her time riding that horse you sold her.”

  “She’s young, Henry. There’s nothing wrong with riding a horse.”

  “Astride! I’m lucky no one has complained about it.” Troubled, as if it mattered how Marie’s reputation would reflect on him, Henry scowled.

  Night Hawk wasn’t fooled. He sensed Henry’s great love for his daughter, one he hid carefully behind bluster and formality. What good was a love that never saw the light of day? “Let her have her fun, Henry. She will settle down soon enough.”

  “She danced with Ned half the night at the ball, so there’s hope. And you for the other half. I’m indebted to you again. You kept groping soldiers from taking a spin with her.”

  “Groping?” Night Hawk strangled on the irony. He’d been the one doing everything he could to keep his hands from roaming over Marie’s delectable curves. Curves he knew well by memory.

  “I remember what it’s like to be a young man. I run a good fort and my soldiers are disciplined, but the toughest self-control can be destroyed by a pretty woman’s smile.”

  “You’re worried because you want a better life for Marie.”

  “That’s right. A father’s burden. When you finish your house and find a woman, you’ll know what I mean soon enough.”

  The truth was urgent on his tongue, and Night Hawk almost told Henry. Almost asked for his daughter’s hand right there on this humble land with only the most modest life to offer Marie.

  He held back. There was too much at stake.

  Henry leaned against the top rail of the corral measuring the unbroken filly trotting around the ring. “I wanted to thank you for helping save the mare the night of my supper party. I’m impressed with your horse skill.”

  “My father taught me what he knew. Horses are an important part of my people’s culture.”

  “Captain Hooper has been reprimanded and demoted, as you know. Captain McGee is young and doesn’t know enough about training yet.” Henry tossed him a sidelong glance. “What we need is new stock. Well-trained animals instead of the cheap green horses Hooper insisted he could break. Are you interested?”

  “To train horses for the fort?”

  “I would pay good money.”

  “Many of these horses come from my people’s herds.” It seemed wrong, yet a part of him knew that he wanted to make a living one day solely off his herd. “It wouldn’t be right to sell them to the army.”

  “I see seven Arabian mares in that corral right there. How many do you have in the stables? Six dozen is my guess. Those are saddle horses to any man, army or Sauk. And money is money, Night Hawk. Good cash.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Fine.” Pleased, Henry offered his hand and they shook. “I have to head back. Marie’s down with a bad case of the grippe, so I don’t want to stay away too long.”

  “Marie is ill?” Alarmed, he tried not to show it.

  “Oh, she’ll be right as rain in a few days, no doubt. She has to be. The winter term starts soon.” Henry snatched the gelding’s reins and mounted, settling heavily into the saddle. “Give my offer some thought.”

  All Night Hawk could think about was Marie. He waved goodbye to the colonel and seethed inside with a hard, biting frustration. He loved the woman. He wanted her in his bed so he could take care of her. How long would it be before he had that right?

  Marie’s head pounded as she lay flat on the bed. The smallest movement made her stomach twist with violent nausea.

  “You’re not feverish.” Mrs. Olstad set the cup of honeyed tea on the nightstand. “I still want you to drink every drop.”

  Marie’s stomach somersaulted and she moaned.

  “I’ll leave the basin right here on the floor if you need to be sick.” Mrs. Olstad left the room.

  She’d never been this wretchedly sick. The steam from the fragrant tea wafted her way, and her stomach clenched. Just don’t move. Go to sleep. This has to get better.

  A sound startled her. The room wasn’t spinning yet, but she didn’t dare move too quickly. She inched her heavy head on the pillow so that she could see the rest of the room.

  A shadow fell across her window. Before her tired eyes could focus, the shadow disappeared. Was someone at her window?

  She levered herself up on one elbow. Her stomach complained and her head pounded, the dizziness and nausea were overwhelming as she inched toward the sparkling panes of glass. Something was on her sill. A tiny bird?

  She crept the few feet to the window, but the small creature didn’t move. No, it wasn’t a bird. It was a carving. She eked open the window just far enough. Her fingers closed around cool, textured wood. Trembling, she studied the object she held in her hand. An exquisitely carved hawk the size
of a hummingbird.

  Every day that she was sick in bed for the next three weeks, Night Hawk left a carving on her windowsill. All were creatures of the forest and each was small, intricate and stunning. The polished wood gleamed with beauty and the handmade detail astounded her.

  It was those carvings she thought of now as her stomach threatened rebellion in the middle of the doctor’s examination.

  “A case of the grippe shouldn’t last this long,” he said quietly as he rolled down his sleeves. “Maybe it’s best if I ask you a few questions. Just in case we’ve got something else to deal with.”

  “I’ve never been sick like this before.” Marie struggled to sit up, but her stomach turned. She leaned into her pillows and closed her eyes.

  “Does it come and go? Or are you constantly nauseous?” His question was kind.

  “It used to be constant, but the last week it comes and goes.” She hated lying here. She’d missed the first week of the winter term, and without her the children had no teacher. “Is there something I can take to calm my stomach? I’m getting better, if I can just get past this nausea.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I have one more question.” He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. The door was open, and Henry was out in the hallway. “How many monthlies have you missed?”

  Marie blushed. Aunt Gertrude had told her it was something a married woman paid close attention to, so she knew when she was pregnant—

  I can’t be. Marie covered her face with her hands. Wouldn’t she have known? How many had she missed? She’d been so upset arguing with Henry and Night Hawk she hadn’t paid attention.

  “How many, Marie?” the doctor insisted.

  “At least two, maybe three. I’m not always regular.” Ice-cold fear crept through every inch of her. It’s the grippe. It has to be. Now isn’t the best time—

  “You’re pregnant, Marie.” The doctor stood and pulled the bedside chair back to its place at her desk, careful not to look at her. “Should I tell your father?”

  “Papa? No! I’ll tell him. I want to be the one to tell him.” Marie gripped the edges of the comforter, holding on for dear life. Her head was spinning, her stomach twisting and she couldn’t feel anything at all. It seemed as if she were as frozen as the icicles outside her window.

  “Fine.” The doctor shook his head as if in pity, grabbed his bag and hesitated at the door. “Try sipping a little ginger water. I’m told raspberry tea helps, too. And nibble on some dry bread. It will help with the nausea.”

  The pity on his face remained, and then he left her alone.

  Henry was in the hall. Marie’s heart stopped pounding. The doctor would keep his word, wouldn’t he? She heard low voices, but she couldn’t tell what the men were discussing.

  A baby. Could it be true? It seemed unbelievable. Except for the sickness, she didn’t feel any different. But she would soon, wouldn’t she? The thought of Night Hawk’s child growing within her filled her with a strange shivery excitement, one that was both fear and joy.

  She remembered how Night Hawk had gazed at her with unquestionable love in his eyes the last time they’d made love. Sweetness shifted through her and she hugged herself tight. She was carrying Night Hawk’s child!

  A rapping sound startled her. She realized Henry was standing in the threshold gazing at her oddly. He no longer looked concerned over her health. He looked weary. More tired than she’d ever seen him. Deep lines gouged his face, drawing his mouth into a sad frown. His eyes drooped, lifeless and cold.

  What had the doctor told him? Marie felt her joy ebb with each step Henry took. He knows. Terror stripped away all rational thought. “Papa, I need to be alone right now.”

  “Leaving you alone is what got you into this mess. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” He said the word with such distaste that it sounded ugly. Dirty. Bitter.

  Hadn’t the doctor promised? “Papa, I’m not feeling well enough to fight about this.”

  “And just whose fault is that?” Anger crept up his neck in a bright red flush and he fisted his hands. “Tell me who did this to you. Tell me.”

  She met his fierce gaze. Gone was the caring, compassionate father she’d briefly known. This man had a hard, cold heart.

  “Tell me, Marie.” He grabbed her by the arm and shook her.

  She cried out at the burning pain in her arm. “Papa, you’re hurting me.”

  As if shocked with himself, he released her. But the fury didn’t ease from his rigid stance or his steely gaze.

  “Ned Gerard didn’t do this to you. He knows I’d make him pay for this. Pregnant.” He spit the word. “How could you do this to me? What were you thinking? That you had to prove me wrong?”

  “I didn’t fall in love with a man just to spite you.” She rubbed her arm where he’d hurt her. How could she make her father understand? “I’m in love, and he’s a good person. I want his child more than anything.”

  Henry’s face turned purple and he breathed hard, spinning away to the window. He hauled open the glass and let the icy air wash over him. Snow tumbled through the opening to speckle the floor.

  Marie shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold wind. What was he going to do now? Night Hawk by rights should be the first to know. She wished she had climbed out the window and raced Kammeo all the way to the lake. She could be in her lover’s arms telling him her news. Imagine the joy that would light his handsome face. She knew exactly how tenderly he would make love to her in his big soft bed in his snug little cabin.

  Somehow, she had to go to him. She couldn’t stand Henry’s fury. He hadn’t welcomed the news of this beautiful new life. He’d seen it as an act of rebellion! Worse, he worried how it would reflect on his reputation.

  Willing the room to stop spinning, she pushed back the covers and swung her feet over the edge of the mattress.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He turned around, and Marie gasped.

  She didn’t recognize him. The tall, square-shouldered colonel she knew as her father was now stooped. He looked beaten, as if he’d aged ten years.

  “Don’t you see? I was doing my best for you.” He raked at his receding hair, and long shocks slumped forward over his brow, hanging limply in front of his eyes. “I could have given you comfort and class. A husband who was somebody, who would always have taken care of you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want a husband who works all the time and cares only about his next promotion and how he looks to others. Maybe I want to marry a farmer and live in a log cabin surrounded by ancient forests. It’s what I want.”

  “Is that what you think, foolish girl? That life is about getting what you want?” He shook his fist at her. “Fine. There’s the door. Go to the man who loves you so much, and see if he wants you now.”

  “I know he will, Papa. You don’t have to worry. Your reputation won’t be harmed. No one will know—”

  “He won’t marry you, you know.” Henry sneered, shaking his head as if he thought her the world’s greatest fool. “How many times did you lie with him? And he didn’t propose once, did he?”

  No, her heart answered.

  “Did he?” Henry said those words with such relish, as if he knew exactly how to hurt her. She wanted to lash out at him and make him stop. She wanted to shout the words that would defend Night Hawk.

  But the truth was, he’d never mentioned marriage. He’d never taken her hand, bent down on one knee and asked her to be his wife.

  But he would. She believed it with all her heart. Night Hawk loved her. And this child they’d made was a gift made from that love.

  She refused to believe anything else.

  “I thought you wanted a grandchild, Papa.” She stood on wobbly knees, clinging to her dreams. “Didn’t I promise you that one day I would marry? Think of how wonderful this is going to be.”

  “With a bastard child?”

  She tried to forgive him his anger. He was hurt. He was losing his dreams. “No, Papa. I’ll marry and the baby wi
ll be legitimate and no one will know. You will be a proud grandfather and I’ll be happily married to the man I love.”

  “You really believe that, don’t you?” Henry pulled the chair from the desk and collapsed into it. He leaned his head in his hands like a broken man. “A bastard grandchild. A shamed daughter. How much worse could this be?”

  He looked as if he’d lost everything. All the hopes he’d pinned his future on.

  This was her father, and while she despised some of the things he’d said, he was still her papa. Still the man she wanted to love her unconditionally. Please understand, she silently pleaded as she padded across the room. Fighting nausea. Battling dizziness.

  “You’ve ruined everything, Marie.”

  She knelt beside him and laid her hand on his.

  He jerked away from her as if her touch were poison. “You’ll pack this morning, or I’ll do it for you.”

  “But everything is going to be fine. You’ll see—”

  “Now.” He was the colonel again, hard as steel. “Every book, every dress, every scrap that will remind me of you. I want it packed and ready. I’m hauling you back to Ohio, true to my word.”

  “You wouldn’t! Papa, you said yourself that he was a good man. I heard you.” He didn’t have the right to send her away. “Night Hawk—”

  “Night Hawk!” he boomed with more fury than a raging twister. His face flushed. A vein throbbed in his temple. He shot out of the chair like a bullet. “You were intimate with Night Hawk?”

  Alarm raced through her. “Papa, sit down or you’re going to have a stroke—”

  “Night Hawk? I can’t believe it.” More veins stood out in his neck. “You slept with him?”

  “Papa!” She didn’t like the way he said that. “Night Hawk is a decent, honorable man—”

  “How could you do such a thing?” Henry looked at her as if she were dirty. As if she were the worst, immoral woman he’d ever known. “And with an Indian, Marie.”

  “But you’re always saying—”

  “That’s policy. It makes sense for a community and a fort. Don’t you see?” He shook his fists, and the cords in his neck strained like a man at the edge of control. “Public policy is one thing. Who sleeps with my daughter is another. How could you lower yourself like that?”