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.
“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
