“Meka. Down.”
Marie laughed when the dog lunged at her basket. “You’ll have to wait like a gentleman,” she told him.
“If you’re looking for gentlemen, you’re in the wrong territory.” Night Hawk halted on the path in front of her, winded from running. His chest rose and fell, attracting her gaze. He wore dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. She noticed his shirt was unbuttoned again and showed a wedge of bronze chest.
He’d been working in his fields, shirtless, and she’d missed it. Longing swept through her. “You said I could come back. I brought baked goods so you’d let me stay longer this time.”
“Baked goods?” The stony look on his face softened. “Give me that basket.”
“You must have a sweet tooth.”
“A great big one.” When he took the basket from her, he was careful to keep his fingers well away from hers. As they walked, he kept a respectful distance between them.
“Were you cutting more hay?” she asked.
“Oats this time. The cut grass is still drying.” He didn’t look at her but strode with leashed power that made her think of a wolf stalking prey.
She’d thought of him many times in the passing days, but she realized her remembered images of him paled when compared to the reality. He seemed taller, imposing, and so essentially masculine that she felt small next to him.
“My niece Morning Star said she met you.” Night Hawk held aside a low fir branch that hung over the path so Marie could easily pass. “She said you came in your buggy with the sergeant.”
“Morning Star is your niece?” Marie hadn’t considered that the native family she’d visited yesterday morning could be related to Night Hawk. “I bet she’ll be one of my best students.”
“She was first in her class last year when the school was first opened.” Pride expanded his shoulders even wider. “She rode over this morning on her pony and told me all about you.”
“Is she excited for school to start?”
“She can’t wait. I’m told she likes reading best.”
“I’ll remember that.” Marie thought of all the children she’d met so far. “Some parents are hesitant to send their children to learn from the fort teacher. I’m hoping my visits will make a difference.”
As they crested the small rise and Night Hawk’s land spread out around them in gentle rolling hills of green and gold, of grazing horses and thriving crops, Marie couldn’t imagine being lucky enough to live in a cozy log cabin like he did. Or gaze through the window to see foals romping in the pastures while their mothers watched.
He held out his hand to help her over the fence.
Fire consumed her in hot, bright sparkles that made it impossible to ignore. She was thoroughly attracted to the man.
Kammeo broke over the crest of the hill, mane and tail flying, strong legs churning the ground as she galloped. The sight of her stole Marie’s breath.
She’s mine, all mine. Happiness wrapped her up like a thick down quilt, and with Night Hawk at her side, Marie imagined just for a moment what it would be like to stay like this forever.
Another foolish daydream, but even as she tried to force the wish from her mind, it remained.
Kammeo charged down the hill like a warhorse and skidded to a stop dangerously near. But Night Hawk didn’t move a muscle, so Marie wasn’t afraid. She reached into her skirt pocket.
Kammeo nickered in approval and, as if she’d read Marie’s mind, had her teeth around the treat in Marie’s hand the instant she’d taken it from her pocket.
“Spoiling her already?”
“I’m trying my best.” Marie laughed as the sugar cookie disappeared in one quick bite. “Lucky I have more. Have you worked with her already today?”
“No, I train the horses in the afternoon.” He said nothing more as he turned, leaving her alone with Kammeo.
The horse nudged Marie’s pocket, wise to its contents, and made an affectionate nickering sound. How could Marie resist? She withdrew another cookie and loved the feel of Kammeo’s soft lips on her palm.
Was she really here and not dreaming? Marie marveled at this exceptional moment in time. The warm sun kissed her with a welcome heat, and the shivering grasses and wildflowers sent dazzling fragrances into the clean air. Birds chirped and butterflies glided. Kammeo leaned her nose against Marie, pressing from her breastbone to her stomach, and contentment filled her, warm and sweet.
She knew the instant Night Hawk returned. The sun felt brighter and the wind sweeter. Harmony flooded her, like a melody finding harmony. All the pieces of her life fell into place. A beautiful sense of rightness filled her as Night Hawk shouldered past her, the bridle in hand.
She resisted the urge to lay her hand against the high plane of his cheek. But she knew.
Everything in her life had happened for a reason—and it was to bring her here—to this meadow, to this man.
“She’s still afraid of my weight.” The colonel’s daughter spun toward him in the shaded circle of the corral. “I’m doing this wrong.”
“No, she needs time to learn to trust you.” Night Hawk fought to keep his feelings for the woman neutral. “She’s getting tired, aren’t you, girl? Don’t worry, Marie. She’ll let you know when she’s ready.”
“I’ll trust you on that.”
“You seem to like working with her.”
“Sure, but I remember you saying that you would train her.”
He laughed because he saw the teasing sparkles in her eyes. “You said you wanted to ride like I do. That is something only you and Kammeo can do together.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Marie laid one slender hand against the fence. Exhaustion marked her delicate skin, but her face was flushed with pleasure.
He ought to send her home. Every instinct he had roared at him to keep his distance. But his heart overruled. He told himself he had a fondness for a fellow horse lover, that was all. But he was only lying to himself and he knew it.
“I’m out of cookies.” The gentle trill of her laughter drew him. Kammeo was nosing at Marie’s skirt pocket again, determined to find the treat she deserved for putting up with that scary experience of having a little weight on her back. “Night Hawk, what do I do?”
“I’ll get some grain.” He liked rescuing Marie, if only from her overly affectionate mare.
When he returned with a small pail of grain and a currycomb, he found Kammeo chewing contentedly and Marie rubbing her nose. The picnic basket was in the grass just outside the fence, evidence that Marie hadn’t waited for the grain.
“Gave in, did you?” He set the pail on the ground in front of the mare as she stole another cookie from Marie’s hand.
“I couldn’t resist.”
“How do you keep discipline in a classroom with that soft heart of yours?”
“I use the same method I do with Kammeo. I win them over with cookies.”
“The children in this settlement are lucky that you came to teach them. Is that what you brought me in your basket? Cookies?”
“Yes. You should have seen the outrage on Mrs. Olstad’s face when she came in from shopping to find me making a mess in her kitchen. She must think I’m some sort of pampered, spoiled little girl. She