The water grew cold. She rose, dried herself vigorously with the warmed towel, then opened her trunk. The clothing within it was new, purchased in St. Louis once she’d reached that gateway westward. She bit lightly into her lower lip, reflecting upon David Douglas. He’d insisted she carry with her a certain amount of cash—necessary if she was to help him, so he had said. She blinked back threatened tears, thinking of the care he had determined to give her, even if his son had not. He’d made quite certain even before his death that his Maryland banker would see to the return of his body, and his last business papers, to his home in the West. He’d made certain she’d had money for any immediate needs. Then, of course, the trickery came in, because he’d assured her as well, in the event of something happening to him, she needed only reach Mayfair, and his “people” would help her understand his affairs.
“Well, David, I am beginning to understand!” she murmured aloud. She still missed him. And she still believed that he had meant the best for her.
She selected a chemise, bodice, pantalettes, and one of the two remaining mourning gowns she had purchased, one with a black silk skirt and form-hugging velvet bodice. She donned it quickly, then brushed her hair with a nervous fervor and startedfor the door. She paused, staring at the bellpull. She didn’t need help to get down the stairs. She’d go on her own.
She hurried down and found the foyer empty. She hesitated, then chose the set of doors to the left of the stairway, quietly pushing them open.
Candles blazed in the room. Dozens of them. Lord David Douglas’s coffin, draped in black, sat in the center of the room on a long table.
Hawk was seated in a high-backed brown leather chair before the table, his green eyes on the coffin, his long fingers resting on the arms of the chair. Chameleonlike, he appeared incredibly different from the war-painted man she had first met, and yet, when those eyes lifted to hers, she discovered them to be as searing and warlike as ever. He could slide easily into either world, she thought. This was his heritage, and seated in the leather chair, he seemed very much the lord, a power within the white, civilized world. Tonight he was elegant, austere. The perfect nobleman.
His father’s son.
“You were told to summon someone to bring you down,” he said coldly.
“I didn’t need any help to find the way.”
His eyes rose to hers. She thought she saw an accusatory expression in them. “But I did not wish to be disturbed. I will spend tonight alone with my father. Dinner awaits you in the dining room. You may retire at your leisure.”
She didn’t think she’d ever been quite so cleanly dismissed in all her life. She tried to understand his feelings. Surely, he had loved his father. Loved him deeply. And was now grieving for him.
Yet she couldn’t forgive him for the way he was treating her.
“You may go straight to hell,” she told him icily, and with tremendous dignity, turning as quickly as she had come, headedout of the room. She crossed the foyer, threw open the second set of doors, and entered the dining room. A single place was set at the end of the elegant dining table that might have easily accommodated a party of twelve. Two candles glowed over the fine china dishes, and a crystal wine glass sat beside a bottle of Burgundy.
As she stood there, a woman entered the room from the rear doorway. She was plump and matronly, with sparkling blue eyes and snow-white hair. She spoke with a refreshingly cheerful Irish brogue. “Ah, dearie, there you be! Welcome then to Mayfair! My, but you’re a beautiful wee creature! I’m Megan, my lady, Meggie, as the girls do call me. Cook, chief dish washer, and unfortunately, the best excuse for a butler his poor dear departed lordship could find, way out here in the wilds of the frontier!”
“Meggie,” Skylar said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ah, dear, the pleasure is mine! And, I must add, the surprise! None of us had the least notion that Lord Douglas planned on returning with a wife for Hawk, but look at ye, my dear child. What a fine job he’s done of it! And lord, but well, we should have seen it coming, thinking back now, and not the least of it, Hawk himself! But I do go on. Sit, child. I’ve my famous beef and kidney pie, with pastry light as clouds, and the finest wine to give y’a fine welcome home, lass.” Meggie pulled out the chair at the end of the table. Skylar thanked her and took it, reflecting that even if Hawk was a monster, the people who shared his home tended to be charming. She’d discovered that she liked Willow, that he was an intelligent and thoughtful man. Jack Logan was polite and little Two Feathers charming. Then there was Sandra. A young, incredibly beautiful and exotic woman, living within his household. He’d told her there were women in his life. She’d told him that he must keep them there. She was certain he fully intended to do so.
“Take your seat. I’ll be right back.”
Meggie was good to her word, disappearing for less than a few seconds before reappearing with a tray of food. She poured the wine while urging Skylar to dig in. Skylar was aware that the older woman studied her with good-humored interest and curiosity. “’Tis such a hotbed you’ve come into, though, lass! Like as not, things will get worse as well!”
“What do you mean?” Skylar asked with a frown. The food was delicious. She would certainly not suffer any of the hardships of the frontier here at Mayfair.
Meggie shrugged. “Ah, well, now, we’ve been here for quite some time, of course—I came here nearly twenty-five years ago to work for Lord David, imagine—but most whites, well, they’ve just started venturing here in the last year, since Colonel Custer opened the way through the Black Hills, bringing his massive army with him! What will happen now is anyone’s guess, what with the government trying to buy what they had promised as sacred land to the Indians and more and more of the Sioux standing like proud men, determined to tolerate no more of the government’s treacherous ways!”
“The government has been at war with the Indians as long as I can remember,” Skylar said.
“Off and on, yes. But you don’t understand until you’ve been out here a while that the Indians are not one enemy. You can make peace with one band and still have a thousand enemies. You can wage war against them one day and play cards with them the next. You can find yourself under attack by a Hunkpapa Sioux, and have his brother, a Brule, perhaps, plead for your life and rescue you. Ah, well, the hostile bands are keeping west of the hills these days. It’s a hotbed indeed, but we’ve been good and safe here these many years, and so it will continue. The Sioux do keep their promises better than most white men, that I can tell you!”
With a sniff, Meggie shook her head. “Now you go ahead and eat, lass. I’ll be back shortly.”
Skylar finished her meal, swirling the dark Burgundy in her glass before drinking it down. She rose then quickly, determined to depart before Meggie returned, anxious to do a little exploration on her own. When she exited the dining room and slipped back to the foyer she heard voices coming from the parlor. The door stood ajar. She glanced through it. Several cavalry officers were in the room. Three stood before David’s coffin, their heads bowed. A fourth stood with Hawk at the rear of the room, speaking to him in an anxious, heated whisper. The man looked up. His gaze happened to fall exactly where she stood. He broke off, staring at her with a curious, fascinated smile. Hawk, frowning, followed the officer’s line of vision. His eyes touched hers with their customary green sizzle. She would have turned and fled had it not been for the military men. She refused to appear to be a coward.
“My wife, Major,” Hawk said, lifting a hand. “Do join us, my dear.”
She knew he wanted her in there as much as he wanted a rattler. The invitation was merely a show of courtesy. But she lifted her chin and stepped forward, extending a hand to the tall, handsome cavalry officer who took her hand and bent over it to kiss the back of it lightly.
“Lady Douglas!” he murmured.
He was somewhere around her husband’s age, well-built, and striking. He had rich dark hair with a reddish tint to it and very deep dark eyes. Like Hawk, he had an intriguingly sculpted face. There was certainly some Indian blood in this man as well. His eyes were frank in their curiosity and his admiration of her. “What a pleasant surprise. We had not heard prior to the night before last that Hawk is now a married man. Your husband so rarely travels into civilization, we’d never have imagined himtaking a whi—er, a new wife. That he has acquired such a devastating beauty scarcely seems fair.”
“Your comments, my friend, will go straight to the lady’s head,” Hawk warned.
“They should. If he does not let you know that you more stunning than sunlight, Lady Douglas, he is remiss.”
