“Now that the wound is cleaned, come closer,” he said. “Help me with the bandaging.”
Unable to speak, Marie obeyed. Kneeling together in the shadows, she could feel his body’s radiant heat.
Night Hawk held a roll of muslin to the gelding’s fetlock. “Hold this in place for me. Right here.” He caught her hand and pressed it to the bandage just above the gelding’s hoof.
His touch was like sunlight, his nearness like dawn. New sensations burst to life within her.
Then Night Hawk released her hand, but the sensations remained. He bent over his work, wrapping the horse’s wound. His rock-hard biceps brushed Marie’s shoulder. His jaw grazed the crown of her head. Bright, hot yearning ripped through her, leaving her trembling but not weak.
He knotted the muslin strip and eased the hoof back to the ground. The gelding nickered, as if in thanks.
“You have a gift.” She breathed the words, and embarrassment warmed her face. Couldn’t she hide this admiration for him better than that?
“A gift? No, nothing special. Not like my father had.” Night Hawk straightened, towering over her, tall and proud, and then extended his hand to her. “I merely have a love for horses.”
“So do I.” She placed her palm against his and climbed to her feet. Touching him this way felt unreal. As if it were part of an amazing dream.
If only he would look at her. If only some of what she was feeling reflected in his dark, mysterious gaze. But she could tell he wasn’t interested in her. Not one bit.
He thinks I’m too young. She bit back the urge to ask his age. To ask a thousand burning questions about him.
Night Hawk spun in the direction of the door. “Here comes your father.”
She didn’t hear anything. A few seconds later footsteps tapped on the path outside and a tall, imposing man marched into the dark stable.
“Papa!” She launched herself past Night Hawk and Devil, skirts rustling, heart lifting. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been waiting all day. I knew you were busy—”
“Now, daughter, contain yourself.” Colonel Henry Lafayette held up both hands as if the sight of her running at him, arms wide, was no way to behave.
Marie stopped short and folded her arms around her middle.
“I had an unavoidable crisis. Only just got it resolved. A bear is threatening the settlers, hardly surprising on the frontier, but there you have it. Sergeant James tells me you’ve settled in. What are you doing here?”
Why had she expected, after years apart, he would be different? She hugged herself, feeling alone. “I came down to look for the mare you promised me. You did remember, didn’t you?”
“I’m a busy man, Marie. Horses are dangerous. Not only that, but I can’t think it would be the best for your reputation. Ladies ride in buggies, not on the backs of animals.” Henry’s face changed and Marie saw a brief apology.
Then it vanished, leaving only the commander’s stern manner. “And what about your behavior tonight? This is the frontier. You can’t walk around on your own, especially at this time of night.”
Disappointment tasted bitter. She should have known. It’s just that his letter asking her to come had been so surprising. Now she could see she’d misinterpreted his meaning. He hadn’t wanted her as much as she’d hoped.
Night Hawk’s moccasins made no sound on the straw-strewn floor as he approached. “Colonel, sir, I have been watching over your daughter. As you see, no harm has come to her.”
“I owe you a debt of thanks, Night Hawk.” Henry shifted his attention on the silent man in the shadows and, again, his stern demeanor faded. “How is the gelding?”
“Devil needs a few days’ rest. I’ll leave instructions with the stable master.” As if she wasn’t there, Night Hawk turned and looked past her. “Good night, Colonel.”
Night Hawk stepped into the shadows and disappeared. Marie stared into the darkness, wishing, just wishing.
“Honestly, Marie,” Henry boomed loud enough for every last soldier in the nearby barracks to hear. “I expected you to remain home until I arrived.”
“Oh, Papa. I couldn’t wait forever in an empty house.”
“How am I to maintain discipline in my ranks when I cannot command my own daughter? This is no way to start out your tenure here.”
“My tenure?” She’d been a fool to think anything had changed between them. She’d traveled all the way from Ohio for this? “I’m not one of your privates ready to jump at your every command. I am a grown woman—”
“That is quite enough, girl.” Henry pushed open the door. “Come, before I lose my temper.”
Marie steeled her heart and headed into the night. A pleasant breeze caressed her face and tangled through her long wavy locks, scattering them every which way. She heard her father’s gait behind her, tapping brisk and even.
“Good thing you came across Night Hawk. I run a tight fort and I command good men, but that doesn’t mean you should wander the grounds without an escort. The stables aren’t a proper place for a young lady.”
“I can take care of myself. I’m not the girl you remember.”
“No, but you are my daughter, and if anything should happen to you, I could never stand it.” A touch of warmth softened his stern manner. “I want you safe, Marie. A gently raised young lady such as yourself is not used to the dangers of the frontier.”
“I’m not afraid—”
“You could have been trampled today,” Henry interrupted. “You would have been had it not been for Night Hawk. That’s twice I’m indebted to him now. Twice. Do not put yourself in danger a third time.”
Marie followed her father up the steps and onto the porch. Not knowing what to do, she leaned against the railing and gazed out on the night. Her father sat down in the shadows, and the wooden chair creaked. A match flared to life, a brief flame against the darkness. The first burst of smoke lifted on the wind.
From Ohio, with his letter in hand inviting her to join him, it had seemed like an opportunity to make things better. Was it even possible to change things between them?
He might be her father, but he was a colonel first. Always a colonel. Never a parent to remember birthdays and gifts. Never someone to turn to when the loneliness became too much to bear.
“Go on up to your room and get some sleep, Marie.” He sounded gruff, just short of harsh, but he sounded strangely affectionate, too.
“I’ll choose my own bedtime, thank you. The night is beautiful and there are so many things I want to say to you.”
“Not tonight, daughter.” Embers glowed at the tip of his cigar as he inhaled. “I’ve had a tough day.”
“I see.” So, he would dismiss her. His daughter. She pushed away from the porch.
“Mrs. Olstad will have breakfast on the table at six hundred sharp. I’ll see you then.”
“Yes, Papa. Good night.” She fled before he could answer, turning her back on the lonely night and the canyon of distance between them.
She hurried up the staircase and down the dark hallway, trying not to turn their first not-so-warm encounter into a disaster. He was tired. She was disappointed. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
Her room was dark, just as she had left it. The white curtains lashed at the open window as if beckoning her. It was still early and she wasn’t a bit tired, so she knelt on the soft cushions of the window seat and let the wind breeze across her face.
It