No Other Man (34 page)

One brave, however, seeing her, suddenly broke from the group
and came striding toward her. He wore a red jagged slash of color down his
face, and no more. The color partially hid a scar on his face, but neither the
paint nor the scar diminished the fact that he was a striking warrior with
strong chiseled features. Arms crossed over his chest, he surveyed her without
apology. Skylar didn't think she'd ever seen a more menacing warrior, but she
determined to stand her ground and returned his perusal. Yet even as she stared
at the warrior, Hawk, chest naked but unpainted, strode to her side, pulling
her in front of him as they both laced the man. "Crazy Horse," he
said, then switched to Sioux for a moment. She heard her own name spoken before
Hawk returned to English, telling her, "Skylar, this is an
introduction—acknowledge it!"

She longed to elbow her husband directly in the ribs. She
controlled her temper, refrained from doing so, and nodded gravely to the
impressive warrior before her. He smiled. He became completely different in
that moment—a man like any other man. She smiled in turn.

He said something to Hawk in Sioux. Hawk stepped by her, and
the two men strode back to their party, swinging up with swift agility onto
their horses. Crazy Horse suddenly lifted his rifle into the air, letting out
a frightening cry. Skylar nearly jumped at the sound of it but managed not to
do so. Sloan raised a hand to her. He had quite a smile of his own, she
thought. For a man who could be so intense and determined, the charm and the
sensuality in his grin were startling. She flushed slightly, remembering that
she had sauntered naked in front of one of her husband's closest friends, yet
it was with a certain encouraging friendliness that he smiled to her now.
Sloan was willing to do something Hawk was not: accept her without terms.

As she watched, Sloan reached over, touching Hawk's bare
bronze arm. He spoke, and Hawk nodded, but Hawk's back remained toward Skylar.
He knew she was there. He wasn't going to acknowledge her now as he rode away.

And he did not. He rode on ahead with the party, right behind
Crazy Horse.

Sloan, however, rode back toward her for a moment.
"Where are you going?" she asked him worriedly.

"Hunting."

She
nodded, glad to hear that they weren't going on a raid. She glanced over
Sloan's bronze, barely clad body to the single feather in his hair. ' 'If you
run into army troops, they're likely to shoot you and Hawk."

Sloan
nodded with a slight shrug. ' 'We won't be running into any troops. Not today.
We're heading west."

"Crow country?"

"Probably not that far."

She
approached Sloan's horse, frowning. "You're only hunting to make sure
there are no more Crow parties in the area, aren't you?"

"We're
hunting because the season is still good. And maybe we're looking for a few
Crow."

"Be
careful, Sloan. Make him be careful, too, please."

"We both know what we're doing, Skylar."

"Generals
with every skill in the world and years of experience can be shot out of their
saddles."

"Skylar,
we'll be careful. By the way, what's for dinner?"

The
wicked gleam in his eye assured her he was well aware there might be
controversy within her tipi.

"Something
quite unbelievable," she assured him sweetly. Then she started, moving
back, because from where she had stood, Sloan's horse had blocked her view of
the trail from the camp—and the fact that Hawk had ridden back along it. He
moved his horse alongside Sloan's, talking to his friend. "Are you joining
us, or do you intend to flirt with my wife all day?"

Sloan
refused to take offense. "I'd probably rather flirt with your wife.
Actually, I was just asking about dinner."

Hawk lifted a brow as he gazed down at Skylar.

"She's
assured me that the meal will be unbelievable," Sloan said pleasantly.

"You
came back to ask about dinner?" he demanded of Sloan.

"I'm
hungry," Sloan said simply. Hawk gazed at him through narrowed eyes.
"And quite curious to discover your wife's cooking talents. And besides, I
thought she did deserve an explanation of where we were going."

"Hunting,"
Hawk said.

"And looking for Crows," Skylar accused him.

Now
Hawk was glaring at Sloan. Sloan lifted a hand. "I told her we know what
we're doing—"

"And
I told him that the most experienced man can get himself killed."

"I'm
not going to get myself killed—if I'm the one you're worried about. And you needn't
fear for yourself; my grandfather knows that in case something happens to me,
you're to be returned to Mayfair."

"I'm not worried about getting back," she told him.

"Then
I guess we're all just worrying about dinner," Sloan interjected.

Hawk
made no effort to hide his exasperation. He leaned toward Skylar, saying,
"Lodge pole!" Then he kneed Tor and cantered off down the trail.

"Lodge pole?" Sloan demanded.

Skylar
shrugged. "Is there any recourse Sioux women have against their
husbands?"

"Divorce," Sloan said cheerfully.

"Can't
she tie him to a lodge pole and take out her frustrations on him?"

Sloan
laughed softly. "I'm afraid you've little hope of ever doing that. If he
were to beat you too severely, your relatives could certainly protest and
endanger his respect within the community. But you haven't any relatives here.
Skylar. . ."

"Yes?"

"Has he really hurt you so badly?"

She
flushed uncomfortably. "No, he scared me halfway to death at first, but
he's never
hurt
me, it's just that..."

"This meal with Crazy Horse is important to him."

"And I intend to be a proper wife."

Sloan
smiled. "It's too bad the three of us aren't full- blooded Sioux. I could
steal you away, leaving several good ponies as payment." "It appears
to me," Skylar said shrewdly, "that you are quite busy enough without
a wife."

"What? Ah ... Earth Woman."

"Is that her name? How fitting."

"Ouch. You do have claws."

"Well, I thought. . . never mind."

"Watch
those thoughts. Sioux men and women are like other men and women; within the
framework of society, some are simply better people than others. But morality
is high here—"

"When a man isn't wife-stealing."

"Wife-stealing brings about a stigma."

"Wife-beating."

"Very
few men beat their wives. And you tell me, are white men always kind and gentle
with their wives?"

Her
heart seemed to harden as she looked him. She shook her head. "You're
right. White men can be monsters." She inhaled. "Don't you dare let
him enjoy the day, Sloan. But you needn't worry. I do intend to be the perfect
wife."

Sloan
smiled. With a wave, he rode off to join his hunting party.

They rode for several hours on the trail of an elk herd. Hawk
used the time to talk with Crazy Horse and his cousins, finding it important
to keep communication between them as open and complete as possible. But after
a while he found himself drawn back to Sloan, and they rode at the rear of the
party.

"Tension in paradise?" Sloan drawled.

"You
caused the tension this morning," Hawk informed him.

Sloan raised a brow.

"She
thought I was the man waiting for Earth Woman."

"Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"

' 'If
she was going to be so quick to assume that I'd do such a thing, she didn't
deserve the truth."

"Ah."

"And
I've never been able to get the truth out of her."

"She lies?" Sloan queried, startled.

Hawk
shook his head. "Not exactly. It's just so damned Irustrating not to know
anything—"

"She's on the run," Sloan said simply.

"You
think she's wanted by the law?" Hawk demanded incredulously.

Sloan
shook his head. He shrugged. "She was a little upset, asking me if Sioux
women had some recourse against their husbands."

"Really?"

"Well,
did you threaten to beat her at a lodge pole?"

Hawk shrugged. "She wasn't really threatened."

"Maybe
she's not quite so sure of you—or herself—as you might think."

"What are you talking about?"

Sloan
shook his head. "I don't know exactly—she's not my wife. I can't threaten
to beat things out of her."

Hawk
exhaled with impatience. Sloan put up a hand to stop him before he could talk.

"She told me that you had never really hurt her—"

"Damn it, Sloan, that you would need to ask—"

"But
someone did hurt her, Hawk. Someone who still scares her now. Someone in her
past. Maybe she ran from a husband—"

"I'm her husband."

"Hawk, I'm just telling you—"

"She was never married before."

"How can you—"

"Unless she was married to a damned eunuch."

"Oh.
Well, there's someone out there she's running from. Maybe an abusive father,
brother, uncle—who knows? She said that she knew white men could be monsters."

"Monsters?" Hawk said.

"Yes."

'
'Monsters?''

"Yes! Monsters."

Hawk
frowned, remembering the way she had awakened, screaming, from her dream. She'd
refused to describe the nightmare that had plagued her.

Except that it had contained ...

Monsters.

"What?
Is that some kind of a clue?" Sloan demanded.

Hawk
shrugged. "I don't know. I will know soon enough. I've asked Henry to find
out about her past for me. And she's going to have a real monster in her life
tonight if she's rude to Crazy Horse: me. I damn well guarantee you a
monster!"

Sloan
shrugged, then pointed ahead of them. "I think that our hunting party
ahead may be on to something!"

"A party of Crow?"

"No,
I think we'd have heard a war cry by now, were that the case. Though I just
don't get it. I didn't understand the other night at all, and I can't believe
there are more Crows in the area. They'd have to be half insane. What in hell
would they be up to, riding in this region?"

"I
don't know," Hawk said. It bothered Sloan, it bothered him, but why, he
couldn't quite say. "It seems like a strange time. A damned strange
time," Hawk muttered.

Sloan glanced at him sharply. "Why? What more?"

Hawk
looked quickly to his friend in turn. "A strange man approached Henry
Pierpont. He had a Douglas ring— one that should have been buried with my
brother. And I was asked to go to the Highlands—to a place we call the Druid
Stone—on the night of the Moon Maiden."

Sloan
stared at him incredulously for a moment, then carefully lowered his eyes,
composing his features. Hawk knew that he intended to weigh his words, to keep
his friend from what might be false hope. "How could David be alive? You
buried him yourself."

"I buried a burned corpse, of that I am certain."

Sloan
shook his head. "Someone suddenly appearing. Saying that David might be
alive? It sounds like a hoax. You shouldn't get your hopes up, my friend."

"How can I not go?"

"Because
life is grave here. Have you thought that someone may want you dead now? Your
brother has been gone more than five years, now your father as well. If you are
killed, there is a clean sweep, and the title and rights to your Scottish
estates may be very dear to someone else."

"Indeed, I've thought of all the angles."

"Including your wife, I imagine!" Sloan smiled suddenly.
"Poor thing—after all this, she may not be Lady Douglas."

Hawk nodded grimly. "Would it matter to her, do you think?"

"Would it matter to you that you were not Lord Douglas?"

"You know that it would not."

"Nor do I think that it would matter to your wife. Hmm.
Interesting. Is she your wife? If David proved to be alive? A Sioux warrior
first, a bloody Highlander next. The poor woman could be sorry she ever heard
the name Douglas."

"She is my wife. Henry guaranteed me of that legality.
Imagine poor David back from the grave—with a wild creature for a wife! Nay,
the lady is mine. And I wish I dared believe we were not Lord and Lady Douglas.
Still, Sloan, I wonder what she will think when she discovers that I may well
whisk her back from Indian territory to drag her across the seas."

"Hawk, I think you judge her too harshly. But then, I am
afforded the luxury of my distance while watching you fall in love with the
lady, so it is far easier for me to be generous."

Hawk offered him an irritated scowl. "It's best she's
becoming accustomed to the tipi, don't you think?"

Sloan smiled, then sobered. "You can think of leaving here
now—"

"I won't leave while we're in the midst of negotiations.
But I admit, I am anxious to discover the truth."

"You'd think that something going on here would tie in
some way."

Hawk arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know ... your mysterious new wife. Crow act-
ing strange. And someone claiming that your brother is alive, after all these
years."

"I can't imagine a connection between Scotland and the
Badlands."

"Nor Crow and your wife."

"Scotland will wait. The Crow situation—especially as it
now involves my wife—will not."

"The Crow have always been our enemies, but they are an
enemy we recognize. An enemy who are brave, who battle in our ways. We respect
a warrior, they respect a warrior. I don't know what it is about this that
doesn't seem right at all," Sloan said.

"It was an absurd place for such a party to be,"
Hawk mused. "Still... why the hell does it bother me so much?"

"Why the hell?" Sloan agreed. "The men are all
dead," he reminded Hawk.

Sloan was right. The Crow who had attacked Skylar were dead.
The incident was over. Hawk looked at Sloan, then let out a sudden bird cry to
the others ahead of them in the party, though a Crow might well recognize it as
a false cry anyway.