But she didn’t need to pull away. He suddenly thrust her from him.
“You are for sale to the highest bidder, aren’t you, Lady Douglas?” he demanded.
She stared at him, shaking, realizing her robe hung open. She raised her fingers to her damp, swollen lips, drew the robe more tightly against her.
“You have his eyes but nothing else,” she said. “There is nothing else of your father about you at all,” she told him heatedly.
“Don’t you tell me about my father,” he warned her.
“I might have known him better than you.”
“One has the feeling you’ve known many men. But now that we are wed, thanks to my father’s efforts on my behalf,” he said sardonically, “the only man you’ll know is me.”
“You bastard!” she hissed.
But he didn’t hear her. He had turned away and slammed out of the lodge.
And once again, she was alone.
CHAPTER 6
Wolf was an extraordinary dog.
He was the best guard dog in the world, ready to rip to shreds any enemy who might come near his master. Yet when Hawk came outside the lodge, slamming the door in his wake only to sink down and sit on the wooden porch, Wolf was beside him instantly, whining softly, sticking his wet nose next to Hawk’s face.
“Hey, dog, good dog,” Hawk said softly, rubbing his pet’s fur strenuously. Wolf settled down beside Hawk, his nose on his master’s knee. Hawk patted him absently. He leaned his head back against the lodge wall. He had swigged down way too much whiskey.
He didn’t appreciate her informing him of the fact. Nor reminding him that yes, the Indians had been made fools of time and again over liquor.
He didn’t, in fact, appreciate her very existence.
A dull pain struck him again. What had his father been thinking when he’d married him to this woman? He had known that David Douglas had been deeply concerned about US policy in the West because he was convinced that generals were running the government. Grant was president and thereforecommander-in-chief of the Army. Sherman and Sheridan, who had done their share of devastating the South in order to win the war, had been turned loose on the American West for some time now. Each year, the conflicts increased the determination of the whites to open the West. Indians were to live where they were told or be considered hostiles. But there was nothing good about reservation living. The whites wanted the best lands. The buffalo were being hunted to extinction. When the Indians couldn’t hunt enough game, they starved. Unless they could grow enough food. But the Plains Indians survived mostly off their hunting. And if they had been natural farmers, it wouldn’t have mattered because any time the land was good, the whites eventually wanted it. On the reservations, far too often, the men grew lazy and indolent. They drank…
Until their pride drove them from the reservations. And then they became hostiles. And hostiles were to be exterminated.
David had warned his son of this frequently. Just as he had often enough urged his son to marry again, to heal the breach in his heart. Marry a white woman. One who would not be a sister or a daughter of a hostile. One who would not bring him more heartache.
He wished he hadn’t left the whiskey inside.
He wished his head wasn’t pounding.
He wished…
It was his cabin. What was he doing slumped down with his dog on the porch while she resided comfortably inside? Especially after he’d ridden through half the night to reach Gold Town and had spent a good part of today riding back.
Why wouldn’t she go back home? Perhaps she knew the terms of his father’s will. Knew that she had far more to gain if she remained here as his…
Wife. The woman was his wife. He almost laughed aloud, remembering how Henry had asked if there was somethingwrong with her. No, there was nothing wrong with her. Her eyes were almost pure silver. Her hair was almost pure gold. To touch her was to feel a stroke of silk.
To lie against her was to feel the greatest sensual pleasure. To…
His thoughts broke off as he realized that the pounding that had been in his head seemed to have filled the length of him. His groin was hot and hard. He could remember the taste and feel of her lips, the full curve of her breast.
Too damned bad she was his wife.
Bought and paid for, so it seemed. There was no returning her.
Even if she was his father’s used goods.
