Night Hawk's Bride

“I haven’t gotten around to that yet. What do you think?”

Marie’s spine tingled at his question. She couldn’t imagine having the right to name this fragile and amazing creature. The adorable filly’s lips were velvet soft against Marie’s skin.

Then the wind caught the hem of her crinolines and ruffled a lace edge. The foal hopped backward a few steps and braced herself on her knobby knees. Those long legs were at off angles, but still she managed to hold her balance.

“It’s all right, little one.” Marie tucked the offending lace edge beneath her blue skirts. “See?”

She felt Night Hawk’s gaze on her like a touch to her cheek. Felt his scrutiny as the filly ambled closer, braver now that the lace had vanished. The wind picked up Marie’s skirts again and the foal leaped so fast she was a blur as she flew to her mother’s side. Her long wobbly legs promised a lifetime of speed.

“Wind.” Marie decided. “I would name her Wind.”

“Good choice.”

He towered over her, silhouetted by the sun’s golden light. Marie gazed up at him and a jolt of pure sensation traveled from her heart to her soul, leaving her trembling.

What was it about this man that made her feel so much? And so strangely? As if she were alive for the first time? Before she could think about it, Night Hawk tore away and kept his back to her, striding on his moccasins to where the sergeant stood in the shade of the buggy.

“Sergeant,” he said in a cool, even tone. “Please see Miss Lafayette safely to the fort.”

He was sending her away? She climbed to her feet. “I came to purchase a mare and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Either Josh Ingalls or Lars Holmberg may have an older mare for sale. Sergeant, take Miss Lafayette to see one of them.” Night Hawk didn’t look at her. It was as if he saw not a woman but a child too young to be bothered with.

He whistled to his dog, which leaped to his side, and strode off toward the fields.

“Come, let’s try Mr. Ingalls.” Sergeant James held out his gloved hand, waiting to help her into the buggy. “No doubt he will be more cooperative. Night Hawk is a loner. He doesn’t take to people butting into his business.”

“But I want to buy a horse from him.” Only him.

“Ingalls is a good man. He’ll give you a fair price for an old, gentle mount. Something for a young lady to learn on.”

She was getting tired of being a young lady. She was a woman, capable and intelligent, and she wasn’t going to let a man who handled horses the way he did refuse to negotiate with her.

Determined, she set off across the stable yard. The sunlight was warm on her face and the tall seed-heavy grass snapped against her skirts. Grazing horses lifted their muzzles to study her.

Where had he gone? She scanned the lush green acreage of grazing pastures and growing crops, all neatly fenced.

There he was—near the tree line. He was nothing more than a shadow against the dark woods, but she’d recognize his proud profile and the set of his wide shoulders anywhere.

She watched his spine stiffen as she drew nearer. He deliberately kept his back to her as he lifted an ax from a thick stump.

Let him try to ignore her. She would show him. She wasn’t a feeble-minded female who could be pushed around.

The dog let out a friendly woof and wagged his tail in greeting until a low word from Night Hawk commanded him to sit. A few dozen horses grazing in the field lifted their sculpted heads in unison and trotted eagerly toward the split-rail fence. Their coats gleamed in the sunshine—an array of rich browns, vibrant reds, pure whites and deep blacks.

A few of those horses were mares. Wait—every single one of them was. Anger kindled, and she could barely contain it. To think that he’d lied to her!

“You said you had no mares,” she challenged. “But here’s a pasture full of them.”

“They are not for sale.”

“That’s right. Because you won’t sell to a woman.”

He lifted the ax high and sank it deep into a tree already on the ground. Steel drove into wood, and the log split its entire length. “I never do business with women.”

“Then let’s pretend I’m not a woman just for the few minutes it takes for me to pick out a mare and pay for her.”

He lowered his ax. Instead of answering, he narrowed his eyes to study her. “Are you sure that you’re the colonel’s daughter? I expected someone obedient and well behaved.”

“I am well behaved. But don’t make the mistake of thinking any woman ought to be obedient. I suppose that’s how men think, a woman would be easier to manage if she wore a bridle and had a bit in her mouth. Just like these horses.”

“What if I agreed?” One brow crooked.

“Then you, sir, are not what I had hoped.” She fisted her hands, not sure now if he was serious or if he was teasing her. “No wonder you’re alone. No woman in her right mind would have you.”

“Maybe I have three wives who obey my every command.”

“Yes, but there’s no one else here. If you have three wives, they obviously came to their senses and left you.”

Now he laughed, rich and deep like summer thunder rolling in from the horizon. “I do think women and horses should be treated the same.”

And he could say that with sincerity in his voice and integrity warming his eyes? She said, “You’ve finally convinced me. I don’t want to do business with you.”

How could she have been so wrong about him? Marie marched through the grasses, disappointment whipping through her.

“I’ve changed my mind, too,” he called out. “I will sell you one of my mares.”

“One of your old, obedient, submissive mares?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“You have no notion of what I wish for.” Now she was really mad. He mocked her? Or was he amused by her? And what of the man with the gentle hands and iron strength she’d seen last night? Who tended wounded horses with care and made her feel alive? “I know what I don’t want, and that’s a horse from you.”

“Too late. One has already chosen you.” Night Hawk gestured toward the field.

A mare walked on the other side of the fence, her ears pricked and her mane and tail dancing in the wind. Her big brown eyes held a shining question.

“I told you, I’m no longer interested.”

“She’s interested in you.”

“The sergeant will take me somewhere else. Somewhere I won’t have to be insulted.”

Night Hawk’s gait whispered behind her, and the mare’s hooves clomped on the hard-packed ground alongside her.

Don’t look at either of them, Marie commanded herself.

“It’s said it’s best when the horse chooses her master.” Night Hawk caught up with Marie, adjusting his long-legged stride to match hers. “When one heart searches for another and finds its match. Look at her.”