“Ah, jealous, then.”
“That from the man who might not have chosen a multitude of wives at one time, but most certainly entertained a score of lovers!”
“But my past is an open book.”
“Umm. I get to read it every time I stumble upon it.”
He laughed softly. “Well, there is nothing anyone can do to change the past.”
“Only the present—and the future,” Skylar added.
“Umm,” he murmured. He was looking at her intently, and she was tempted to start blurting out explanations. But the bonds that held them together still seemed too fragile and tenuous. How could she explain that she would have done anything in the world—to escape the man who had killed her father?
The respected man who had killed her father.
She saw that he was still looking at her probingly. She pointed to her right, where the sun was just falling behind a mound of emerald-green grass, dotted with purple wildflowers. “My God, have you ever seen such a sunset!” she exclaimed.
His gaze moved in the direction in which she pointed. She kneed her roan and glanced back at him. “Race you to it!” she challenged, and took off, flying across the field.
She knew she was not nearly as good a rider as Hawk. The Indians of the Western Plains tribes seemed to be the most spectacular horsemen she had ever witnessed in action. But she was a good rider, and she could certainly try to outrace him.
The only problem was that he raced on Tor.
Nutmeg tired as she dipped down into the valley. She slowed her gait. He came behind her on Tor. Before she could catch her own breath, he had leaped from Tor and caught her about the waist, bringing them both down into the rich green grass. They rolled in it, laughing. Then Hawk rose, drawing her to her feet. “The others will be right behind us. Seems like a good place to camp for the night, though. What do you think?”
She looked around, then shook her head. “No water.”
He smiled. “Smell the air.”
“The air?”
“The water is down at the bottom of that hill.”
She stared at him doubtfully, then started to run down the hill to the next rise.
A brook gently trickled by beneath her.
Sloan, Willow, Ice Raven, and Blade came riding up and dismounted from their horses.
Hawk started to unpack with Willow.
Sloan rode over to Skylar. “Did he really smell water?” Skylar demanded.
“Of course,” Sloan told her.
He lifted his horse’s saddle from the animal. “Then, of course, we camped here a few times before, so he probably knew the creek was right down there anyway.”
He winked at her and walked away.
That night, they slept in a circle in a copse of trees. Two men remained on guard throughout the hours of darkness.
It was a peaceful night. Skylar slept beside Hawk. Slept with her head upon his chest.
He rested his hands upon her shoulders, her hair.
But even when his watch was over, he stayed awake through most of the night.
Watching.
