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Marie froze as a shadow rose from the darkness.

Night Hawk.

Savior of women and children, and wild-horse tamer. How could he be real? He had to be a dream, a figment of her imagination, her idea of a perfect man.

Except she was wide awake, and this was no dream. She could smell the straw and horse scent of the stable. She could see the flicker of light on the man’s hands as he inspected the gelding’s fetlock, feel the wind rustling her skirts.

And hear the beat of her own heart.

He stood—all flesh and blood man—and his gaze pierced through the shadows and pinpointed her. “Miss Lafayette. What are you doing out of your father’s house?”

“I didn’t make a sound.”

“Your skirts did.” The light flickered over him, worshipping high, sharp cheekbones, a well-proportioned nose and a hard, carved jaw.

Something within Marie’s heart clicked. Just like that. As a lock finding its key at the right moment.

Could he be the one? The man she’d been waiting for all her life?

Praise for Jillian Hart’s previous titles

Malcolm’s Honor

“…a quick read with plenty of…treachery and passion.”

—Romantic Times Magazine

Cooper’s Wife

“Well-crafted and poignantly funny…this is a feel-good story for both veterans and newcomers to the genre.”

—Romantic Times Magazine

Last Chance Bride

“The warm and gentle humanity of Last Chance Bride is a welcome dose of sunshine after a long winter.”

—Romantic Times Magazine

Night Hawk’s Bride

Harlequin Historical #558

Night Hawk’s Bride
Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

Fort Tye, Wisconsin

1840

The fort loomed like a fairy tale against the sparkling river and wild Wisconsin forest. Marie couldn’t believe her eyes. Was this real? Was this truly where she was going to live?

She leaned out the open window of the stagecoach. Amid the rich green backdrop of the forest, the fort shone like newly polished wood in the hot summer sun. It was an impenetrable fortress like the castles of old. And it was her future.

“Welcome to Fort Tye, Miss Lafayette,” Mrs. Webster said over the noise of the rattling stagecoach. “And stop leaning out of that window. Who would teach the children if something happened to you? Your father would have my head. Come in, now.”

“I don’t want to miss one single thing.”

She felt as if a whole new world had been spread before her, and she was near to bursting with the wonder of it all. The beauty alone fascinated her. It was so different from back home with its tidy streets and tended houses all in a row.

This was a wild land untamed and filled with the possibility of adventure around every turn.

“Calm yourself, dear.” Mrs. Webster, seated across from her, chuckled. “It’s just a fort, nothing special at all and, believe me, after one Wisconsin winter, you’ll be desperate to head back to your aunt’s pretty little home.”

Mrs. Webster didn’t understand, and Marie knew she couldn’t tell her why. She didn’t want to speak of the pain of her childhood and of the father’s love she’d always ached for. A love that seemed just out of her reach.

How did she say that here in this beautiful, wild land, she would live with her father again. Maybe this time she could make things right between them. Marie crossed her fingers and held the wish close to her heart.

“My Jeb works for your father, the colonel,” Mrs. Webster continued from inside the stage. “Dear, you’ll hurt yourself. Please, come inside. You’re giving me a fright.”

A sharp cry carried on the wind, and Marie tilted her head up. A hawk soared across a powder blue sky, wings spread as if to touch the brilliant sun.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Marie asked.

“Why, I must have seen a thousand of them.”

The graceful bird glided on broad wings and out of sight.

The stage rolled around a corner, and a broad river sparkled with the sun’s touch. A few houses and buildings huddled together near its grassy banks.

This is the settlement? It was smaller than she’d imagined. And beyond the huddle of buildings stretched a maze of thick woodland and danger. She felt a strange thrill looking into the shadows of the forest….

The stage bounced hard. Marie rapped the top of her head against the window frame. She rubbed her hand over the sore spot and didn’t look away from that shadowed place in the forest. She felt as if there was something—someone—looking back at her.

The shadow moved, and darkness became a mounted man. Black hair, black eyes and bronze skin. He was as dark as the shadows. Dressed in trousers and a deerskin shirt, he looked as wild and proud as the horse he rode.

The stage jolted to a stop outside the fort’s gates, and Marie almost slipped off her seat. She righted herself and turned toward the window.

He was gone. Only shadows carpeted the forest floor where no sunlight touched the thick ferns and bracken.

Had he been real or a dream?

Marie kept searching for him as she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

“You take care now, dear, and give my regards to your father.” Mrs. Webster hesitated at the door. “I hope Fort Tye is everything you’ve hoped it to be.”

“I hope so.” All her life she’d imagined accompanying her father to one of his posts, and now it was truly happening. Marie grabbed her reticule from the seat and took one last look out the window. The man—image, shadow or dream—was gone.

There goes your romantic fancy again. Marie sighed. She was always daydreaming, something her father frowned on.

Please, let him be glad to see me. She knew he’d be here to greet her—he’d promised her in his last, brief letter. Nerves gathered in her stomach and made her hands clammy beneath her gloves as she grabbed the edge of the door frame and climbed onto the narrow step.

Where was he? She searched the strange faces of the people bustling around the entrance to the fort. Where was Papa? This time he’d promised to meet her. And she wanted to believe this time was different than all the other times he’d forgotten or been too busy.

The sinking sensation in her heart felt as heavy as lead. Careful to keep her chin up, she hopped off the last step and touched solid ground.

Maybe he was late. Or she hadn’t seen him yet in the small crowd. The stage was a few minutes early….

She stood alone, feeling like the stranger she was. Everywhere she looked people greeted one another, stopping outside the wooden steps to the mercantile to exchange news. Everything looked so different from home and she felt lost. Surely Papa hadn’t forgotten her this time.

“Miss Lafayette?” A uniformed soldier broke apart from the crowd. “Your father, the colonel, sends his apologies. A situation arose—”

“I understand.” Marie tried to steel her heart against the disappointment. It wasn’t this man’s fault Henry was the way he was. “Will he be along shortly?”

“I’m afraid he’ll be engaged for most of the afternoon. I’m Sergeant James. I’m your father’s assistant.” The officer avoided her gaze, as if he didn’t know what to say. “Are these your trunks?”

“Yes.” She hated the look of sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for her. “He forgot, didn’t he?”

“No, miss, he’s simply busy—”

“He didn’t realize that I arrived today.” Marie refused to let the hurt show in her voice. “Don’t worry, Sergeant, I’m used to it. I know my father.”

“Just wanted to spare your feelings, miss.” The sergeant tugged on his cap. “I’ll see to your trunks.”

Marie began to thank him when a horse’s high, shrill neigh trumpeted above the sounds on the busy lane.

Suddenly a pair of iron-strong hands banded around her arms and yanked her back, away from the dirt road.

She stumbled against an unyielding, male-hot chest. Even through the layers of her traveling clothes, his heat scorched her and tingled along her skin.

For one brief second she felt the strangest thrill. She couldn’t describe it. Her heart was racing, her chest tightened and an odd ringing filled her ears.

She knew she ought to be terrified, but she wasn’t. Time slowed down, and there seemed to be nothing in the world but the protective shelter of his arms. She didn’t even know who held her, whether he was friend or foe, young or old.

Then he released her.

Time snapped back, the noise from the street and the crowd filled the air, and Marie nearly stumbled. Breathing again, she felt him brush past her arm. He was running toward the street, and she saw the danger.

A runaway horse clipped past her so close she could feel the heat of his breath. His lethal hooves slammed into the ground, obliterating her shoe prints in the thick dust. The renegade flew past her, then swerved to avoid the stagecoach.

A little girl stood directly in his path. Marie leaped into the road, but she was too late. A man wearing a deerskin shirt scooped the child to his chest and rolled out of the renegade’s path.

Not soon enough. The gelding was on top of him, skidding to a stop, bugling his fury. Wild, out of control, it reared up, hooves slashing the air, and then landed again. Marie heard a man’s grunt of pain, and a bullwhip cracked in the air behind her. The wild horse leaped over the man in the road and flew toward the river.

“Are you all right?” The sergeant appeared at her side. “You could have been killed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cassie!” A woman darted out of the mercantile and raced down the stairs. “Cassie!”

The man holding the child rolled one final time and climbed to his feet. Marie saw his face, the dark eyes and long black hair, the chiseled bronze face that could have been made of stone.

The man from the forest.

Just seeing him made her heart beat painfully fast. He was like no man Marie had ever seen before. She could only stare as he brushed the dirt from the child’s locks and handed the girl over to the housekeeper responsible.

A tender gesture. Marie couldn’t believe her eyes. How could such a tough man have such gentle hands? She remembered the strength in them as he’d pulled her safely out of the gelding’s path. The same strength that kept a frightened child safe now.

Instead of crying, the little girl stuck her thumb in her mouth and gazed up at the man holding her. The child went wordlessly into the worried housekeeper’s arms. The woman couldn’t stop thanking the man enough for saving the child.

He’s bleeding. Marie saw the stain on the man’s shirtsleeve, spreading with each passing moment. He’d risked his life for a child, and she couldn’t look away.

The housekeeper crossed the street, muttering about how fast children could move. The men mounted up to join the army officer to bring in the dangerous horse.

Marie stood on the side of the street as the men rode off, the dark hero among them. He guided his black stallion bareback without aid of bridle and raced out of sight.

Admiration burned like a new flame in Marie’s heart.

“Looks like they’ll need help bringing in that killer.” The sergeant appeared at her side with a plump, elderly woman at his side. “This is Mrs. Kelsey. She’ll look after you while I help with the roundup.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” But he was already swinging up onto his horse.

“Dear me, what a sweet little thing you are.” Mrs. Kelsey took Marie by the hand and tugged her toward the brightly painted mercantile. “I hope you weren’t frightened at all. If it hadn’t been for Night Hawk, I’d hate to think what would have happened to both you and that little girl. I was standing at the window, and what I saw nearly scared me to death.”

Night Hawk. His name must be Night Hawk. Marie hesitated on the top step and gazed toward the bend in the road.

She could no longer see him, but the image of him lingered. Dark, brave, proud. His long black hair brushed by the wind. A man who would have traded his life for a child’s without hesitation.

“Come right in here, dear, and let me get you some cold water.” Mrs. Kelsey held open the stout wooden door. “You need to sit down after a scare like that.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Marie could still feel the heated imprint of Night Hawk’s hands on her arms. “Is the child all right?”

“There’s not a scratch on her.” Mrs. Kelsey’s voice lowered as she led the way down the aisles and through the noisy store. “Now, sit right down here on this stool and I’ll fetch you a drink.”

“Please, don’t go to any trouble—” Marie started but couldn’t finish the protest.

Mrs. Kelsey had already bustled away, her skirts rustling. She returned with a dipperful of sparkling cold water. “Drink it all, dear, you’ll feel better.”

An elderly woman stepped close to the counter, clucking sympathetically. “Poor dear, a near miss like that. Why, you must be the colonel’s daughter come to teach our children.”

“That’s right.” Marie took the dipper with trembling hands. A few drops landed on her dusty skirts. She could still feel the heat on her skin from Night Hawk’s touch.

She drank the entire dipperful because Mrs. Kelsey kept fussing. When she was done, she looked over her shoulder through the small front window that offered a view of the dirt road and the river beyond.

Where was Night Hawk now? Was he safe? How badly had he been injured? Questions buzzed inside her like the conversations in the crowded little store. Most of the customers were discussing the renegade horse and how close the little Ingalls girl had come to being killed.

But no one mentioned Night Hawk.

Marie returned the empty dipper and thanked Mrs. Kelsey. The minute she slipped off the stool, the older woman was there, shaking her head.

“You’re still trembling, dear, and flushed as can be. Stay right here and when Sergeant James comes back, I’ll have him take you home straightaway.”

“I came to no harm, thanks to Night Hawk.”

As if saying his name had brought him to her, the door opened and he filled the threshold. Noble and mysterious, wild and civilized. The conversations silenced and a tension filled the room. Night Hawk headed toward the front of the store.

Directly toward her.

Marie slid off the stool, her knees suddenly like water.

But he wasn’t looking at her with his dark, fathomless gaze. “Mrs. Flanders, how is Cassie?”

The housekeeper grabbed hold of another rambunctious child, a boy, ready to dart down an aisle and out of reach. Then she shifted Cassie on her hip. “First thing she did was try to run off. As you can see, it put no fear into her at all.”

“I’m glad.” Night Hawk’s stone face relaxed into a slow grin and he brushed one bronzed knuckle against the girl’s pale cheek. “Did you like me grabbing you like that?”

“Night Hawk! Let’s do it again.” Cassie smiled adoringly up at him.

“Not today, cowgirl.” Night Hawk withdrew his hand and stepped away.

He was part dream, Marie decided.

Then the man named Night Hawk focused his eagle-sharp gaze on her. She felt it like a touch to her soul.

“Are you all right, miss?” He strode toward her with the grace of a wolf stalking prey. “I must have startled you, but I didn’t want you harmed.”

“I owe you a great debt, sir.” Marie eased around the corner of the wooden counter, and there was nothing between them. “I cannot thank you enough. You saved two lives.”

“I did only what any man would do.”

“No other man took the risks you did today.” Marie heard the breathlessness of her own voice.

“Miss Lafayette.” Sergeant James appeared in front of her, separating her from Night Hawk with his presence. “Your father wants you delivered to his quarters immediately.”

Marie blushed at the officer’s rudeness. “I’ll be ready in a moment. I—”

“Now, miss.”

Marie could feel half the customers watching her.

“Good day to you.” Night Hawk nodded formally and backed away.

It was too late to call him back, not with the sergeant watching her with narrowed eyes and the attention of so many strangers. Strangers whose children she would be teaching at summer’s end.

Disappointed, Marie watched Night Hawk stride toward the door. A thousand questions itched inside her, and she desperately wanted to talk with him. Did it show on her face? Was that why the sergeant took her by the elbow and led her, stumbling, to the door.

When she tripped down the steps, Night Hawk was nowhere in sight. She looked through the shadows created by the immense log walls. She scanned the crowds of busy soldiers inside the fort once she’d followed the sergeant inside.

No sign of him. Had he vanished back into the shadowed wilderness?

“Why wouldn’t you let me speak with him?” she demanded, frustrated.

“I’m under strict orders to bring you straight to the colonel’s quarters,” Sergeant James said in a clipped manner as he saluted the guards at the fort’s wide gates and wouldn’t look at her.

No, there was more to that. Was it Henry’s orders? “It’s because Night Hawk’s an Indian, isn’t it? I saw how everyone acted in the mercantile.”

“You’re wrong. His being an Indian has got nothing to do with it.” The sergeant flushed. “He is a different sort of fellow.”

Marie heard what the officer wasn’t saying, and it made her angry. “It is because he’s a native.”

“Your father is more progressive than that!” The sergeant’s commanding tone vibrated with anger, as if he didn’t like being questioned by a mere woman, and it drew looks from uniformed privates mounting up in the nearby stable yard.

“Night Hawk keeps to himself. Doesn’t seem to have much need for us. He’s a real lone wolf type, and you’d be wise to keep your distance from men like that. Your father won’t permit it.”

So, that was the way it was. Did Henry still think of her as a little girl to be commanded and supervised, like any new enlistee? If that was true, then he was in for a surprise.

She was a grown woman, and she could make up her own mind about a man’s character. Remembering how Night Hawk had brushed his knuckles down little Cassie’s cheek with a father’s tenderness eased the hot anger inside her.

A thousand questions buzzed on her tongue, so many she didn’t know where to start. She was nearly out of breath trying to keep up with the fast-paced sergeant, who looked more unpleasant after their exchange.

“Tell me, please.” She lifted her skirt and hopped over a rivulet of water from a garden’s irrigation. “Does Night Hawk live here in the settlement?”

The sergeant’s mouth narrowed, and he walked even faster.

Marie practically ran to keep up. “Night Hawk was injured. Does he have family to look after him?”

The sergeant scowled at her. The intent was clear to her. He wasn’t going to tell her a thing.

She wasn’t discouraged. Somehow, some way, she’d find the answers to her questions. Meeting Night Hawk today had left her feeling as if she’d been interrupted in the middle of a sonata, the harmony of notes fading in the air, unfinished and without end.

As she hurried past huge log buildings and the smaller log homes of officers, she remembered the low rumble of his voice, like summer thunder, and the protective shelter of his arms.

Maybe—just maybe—she’d see him again.

Chapter Two

What a wondrous night. Marie let the screen door slap shut behind her and padded across the porch. Like enchantment, the night sky glittered with the light of a billion stars. Big, white beautiful twinkles that made the heavens seem close enough to touch.

If only Papa were here to see it with her. He hadn’t come home at all, and she’d eaten supper fixed by an unfriendly housekeeper alone in the echoing dining room.

A series of sweet mellow bongs spilled through the open parlor window. Eleven o’clock. Late for Papa to be out on her first day here.

She fought the harsh sting of disappointment. Her father was a busy man, that was all. She understood that. Surely a crisis had come up and detained him. That’s what it was.

But she didn’t think so. He’d promised he’d greet her at the stage. He’d promised he would have a new horse at the stables for her. Had he broken that vow, too?

There was only one way to find out. She took the steps two at a time and hit the dirt path with both feet, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Overhead a hawk cried, and she tilted her head all the way back to watch it spin across the handle of the Big Dipper. Exhilaration thundered through her.

Was it the same one she’d seen earlier today? Or its mate? The bird glided gracefully on wide wings, wild and free, commanding the night.

This wilderness was truly an amazing place to live. What other wonders would she see? Maybe Night Hawk. The thought came unbidden like a whisper in the wind.

It was easy to recall how he’d looked framed by the mercantile’s doorway. As dark as forest shadows, he was striking with his shoulder-length jet-black hair, bright sparkling eyes and mysterious good looks. Just imagining him made her heart leap. A strange, shivery feeling gathered in her stomach.

Light from the stables tumbled through an open half door onto the path, as if beckoning her closer. At this late hour, no one should be inside the stables. Maybe it was her father, a part of her hoped. Was it possible he hadn’t forgotten about her mare? Eagerly she pushed open the door.

A single flame burned in a lantern hung from one of the overhead rafters to light her way. She took two steps and froze at the sight of a huge dark horse cross-tied in the aisle, half-masked in shadows. His eyes rolled, and he tossed his head sharply. The ropes holding him snapped taut, keeping him trapped.

“Whoa, fella,” a man’s forest-dark voice soothed. It wasn’t her father’s voice. “Easy, now. There is no danger.”

Marie watched in amazement as a shadow rose from the darkness at the horse’s side, taking shape and substance as the light touched him.

Night Hawk.

He didn’t appear to see her lurking in the doorway.

“Easy, boy.” Night Hawk stepped into the light, circling around the nervous animal that watched him defiantly. Almost viciously.

How powerful and wild the gelding looked up close. He stomped one huge front hoof and tossed his enormous head in the air as high as the ropes would allow. His ears flattened against his head. She recognized the horse now. It was the same one that had almost hurt her and little Cassie Ingalls.

“That’s no way to behave, boy.” Night Hawk’s words held no trace of fear.

The warmth in his voice made the sensitive skin at Marie’s nape tingle.

“You can be a gentleman, I know you can.” Night Hawk spoke with the hush of a lullaby and the power of a summer storm.

The horse responded with uneasy trust. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The untamable runaway that had nearly turned killer today stood quietly for Night Hawk.

The big man knelt and ran his hand along the gelding’s front leg, never losing touch with him. Night Hawk’s words became too low to hear, but the gelding’s head drifted down to eat from a small tin bucket on the floor.

The scent of corn and molasses tickled Marie’s nose.

What kind of man was Night Hawk? Saver of women and children and wild-horse tamer. How could he be real? He had to be a dream, a figment of her imagination, the fantasy of a perfect man. Yes, that was it.

Except she was wide-awake and this was no dream. She could smell the straw and horse scent of the stable, see the flicker of light on the man’s hands as he inspected the gelding’s fetlock. And hear the beat of her own heart.

He stood—all flesh-and-blood man—and his gaze pierced the shadows and pinpointed her. His eyes were dark like the night. “Miss Lafayette. What are you doing out of your father’s house?”

How long had he known she was there? “I didn’t make a sound.”

“Your skirts did.” The light flickered over him, worshiping high, sharp cheekbones, a well-proportioned nose and a hard, carved jaw.

Marie felt a lightning bolt strike her, but there was no storm, no thunder. Her feet left the ground, she was sure of it. When she looked down, she saw the straw-strewn earth directly beneath her shoes.

The wind gusted, snapping her skirts. The gelding trumpeted, loud and shrill and sidestepped violently, fighting his restraints.

Night Hawk spoke, gentle soothing sounds of his native tongue while holding tight to the gelding’s halter with one hand. He stroked the horse’s gleaming coat with the other. The animal fought, and the man’s muscles corded beneath the deerskin shirt, holding him steady.

Night Hawk’s touch was magic, and the dangerous horse calmed.

Unbelievable.

“He cannot harm you. I have him cross-tied and hobbled.” Night Hawk caressed one bronzed hand down the gelding’s neck with the ease of a natural-born horseman. “Devil is not used to a woman’s skirts.”

“Should I leave?”

“No. I can control him. You have nothing to fear.”

Something within Marie’s heart clicked. Just like that. As a lock finding its key at the right moment.

Could he be the one, she wondered. The one she’d been waiting for all her life?

Excitement flickered through her in hot, bright flames. She dared to step forward, wanting, no—needing—to be closer to him. “I saw you save the little girl’s life. How badly were you injured?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “I will heal.”

“I saw the blood on your shirt. In the mercantile. When you spoke to me.” She felt breathless, as if there wasn’t enough air in the building.

“Cassie Ingalls is my friend’s daughter. I would trade my life for my friend.”

“Or for any child.” She could feel it, the kind of man he was at heart—brave, noble and humble. A dream man who couldn’t possibly be real.

But the real flesh-and-blood man stepped out of the shadows and into the light. “Does your father know you’re here?”

What did she look like, a girl and not a woman grown? Heat flamed her face and it took all her self-control to modulate her words. “I’m my own woman, Mr. Night Hawk.”

“Just Night Hawk.” He spoke deep like rolling thunder and as gentle as twilight.

Another jolt spiraled through her.

He cupped the stallion’s front hoof in one hand, leaned his solid shoulder against the horse’s side and lifted.

Marie saw the rivulet of blood streaking the animal’s delicate fetlock. “He’s injured.”

“That’s why I’m here. No one under your father’s command could get close enough to treat him.”

“Then you work for my father?”

“No. I came as a favor.” Night Hawk reached up to reposition the lantern and didn’t look at her.

Bright light illuminated the angry gashes on the gelding’s neck and the man’s big, healing hands. Such gentle, masculine hands.

Marie shivered deep inside. She couldn’t move away. “It looks to me as if you need some help.”

“Does it?” He lifted one dark brow, measuring her. “You’re not afraid of Devil?”

“Not with you here.”

He nodded toward the shadows. “You can fetch that basin for me.”

She lifted the hot enamel container from the shadowed dirt floor. Mossy-smelling steam brushed her face as she knelt in the crackling straw beside the horse.

“Closer to me,” Night Hawk urged.

Closer? She was already near enough to see the bold, high cut of his cheekbones and the wide, lean cut of his shoulders. He smelled pleasantly of night and wind. She managed to crawl a few more inches on her knees.

He dipped a cloth into the steaming basin and wrung it well. He was big but his ministrations were gentle as he cleaned the blood from the horse’s wounded fetlock.

She had never seen tenderness like this in so strong a man.

“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.