Read Hawk's Prize Online

Authors: Elaine Barbieri

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Historical

Hawk's Prize (17 page)

BOOK: Hawk's Prize
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The firm softness of her breasts against his lips . . . the silky smoothness of her intimate flesh underneath his palms . . . the moist heat as he slipped his fingers into the crevice at the juncture of her thighs.

Holding himself strictly in check, he caressed her intimately and watched with a sense of growing heat the myriad emotions flickering across Tricia’s flawless features. He saw her flush. He felt the impact when her eyes glazed over with passion. He shuddered with his own passion barely controlled as the first quaking began inside her.

“Drew . . .”

Panic invaded her gaze and Drew whispered hoarsely, “Give to me, Tricia. Help me to believe that you want me as much as I’ve always . . . always wanted you.”

Tricia gasped as his seeking caresses moved more deeply into her intimate heat. She raised her body, instinctively allowing him further access as her eyelids began fluttering and she groaned softly.

“That’s right, Tricia.” His passion almost beyond control, Drew rasped, “Show me . . . I need to know.”

Tricia’s slender body reacted spontaneously to his prompting. Convulsive shudders shook her as her body quaked in loving tribute, and Drew felt control slip away. Her quaking had barely ceased when he slipped himself fully atop her at last. Hushing her response with a whisper, he paused briefly to indulge the sensation as he brushed her moist nest with his male organ. He caught his breath as he entered her slowly, then, unable to further control his passion, thrust himself deep inside her.

Her gasp echoed his own, and a sense of wonder overwhelmed him. Moving with gradually increasing impetus, he plunged more intimately inside her. His movements jerked to a halt when his control slipped
away at her impassioned gasp and she joined him in a sudden, consuming rush of fulfillment that held them helpless in its grip.

Throbbing to mutual stillness, they remained joined for long moments with an unwillingness to end the beauty of the moment. Finally breaking the silence between them, Drew spoke in a whisper that came from the heart.

“My angel.”

Tricia looked up at him. Her delicate features still colored with emotion, she was more beautiful to him than she had ever been before.

Chapter Eight

“Wake up, Tricia.”

Tricia awakened slowly. Momentarily disoriented, she felt the comfort of warm body heat wrapped around her, and she burrowed instinctively closer.

“Tricia . . .”

She opened her eyes to the sudden reality that she was lying on a blanket in a forested clearing barely lit by dawn, and that she was looking up into the eyes of the man she loved. Emotion swelled as Drew touched his mouth to hers. She slid her arms around his neck when his kiss deepened, accommodating him with a need that rose to meet his. She felt the swell of his passion as his body moved against hers, and her own passion expanded as well. She gasped when he slid himself atop her. His mouth covered hers, and his male organ sought her intimate heat.

He entered her, and she briefly held her breath at the wonder of the moment. Looking up at Drew, at the
passion reflected on his strong features, she encouraged him softly, and the dance of love began. She was breathless when he stilled briefly, as if wanting to say something, but his words went unexpressed in the rush of emotion that thrust them unexpectedly over the brink of passion.

When their bodies grew still minutes later, Tricia felt Drew turn her face up to his.

“Tricia . . . it wasn’t my intention to wake you up this way, but it all got beyond my control somehow.”

Tricia took a breath and glanced away. Reality. They could avoid it no longer.

Drew whispered, “Don’t turn away from me, Tricia. I need to have you tell me you’re not sorry this happened between us. I need to hear you say it wasn’t only sorrow that brought you into my arms, and that you still feel the same way you did last night. I need—”

“Here’s my answer to all your questions, Drew.” Tricia brought her lips to his for a kiss that said more than words ever could.

Staring wordlessly into her eyes for long moments after she pulled back, Drew said, “You know there are things I need to do when we get back to Galveston . . . things that can’t wait.”

Tricia’s gaze locked with his as she whispered, “I understand that last night didn’t change any of the bad things that happened before it. Willie was your friend, and you have to do all you can to find the person who killed him. That precedes everything else in your mind.”

“Not everything.”

Responding to his fleeting smile, Tricia whispered, “I
know, but reality is hard. It intrudes into the most intimate moments and it won’t let you forget. No one knows that better than I.”

“There’s more I need to deal with than you know. My personal past as well as things that happened before the war ended . . . they’re all mixed up together somehow. I know now that’s part of the reason why I came back to Galveston with Willie in the first place. But the thing that sticks in my mind . . . the thought I can’t avoid . . . is the feeling that my past had something to do with the reason Willie was killed. I need to know the truth before I’ll feel free to go on.”

Hesitating, Drew continued, “I’d explain it all to you if I could, Tricia. There are only two things I’m really sure of now. The first is that I can’t forget what happened to Willie and I need to go back to Galveston to get to the bottom of all this.”

“What’s the second thing?”

Drew froze.

“Drew?” she pressed.

Drew took a breath. “Do you trust me, Tricia?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me to give you that answer as soon as I’m able.”

Taking a moment longer, Tricia nodded. She saw relief on his face, followed by determination. Yet his features softened as he stood up and handed her clothes to her.

Tricia stood and dressed. Her fingers worked selfconsciously at the buttons of her shirtwaist as Drew dressed, watching her every move.

When she was finally fully clothed, Drew stepped up
close to her and said softly, “I made you nervous. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help staring. I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you are in every way. My eyes couldn’t get their fill.”

Her throat suddenly tight, Tricia smoothed his cheek with her palm as she whispered simply, “Me, too.”

Drew took her mouth with a passionate, soulsearching kiss that stole all thought from Tricia’s mind. She caught her breath when he pushed down her split skirt, thrust aside her undergarments, and entered her. She stood still, enraptured and helpless against his loving assault as he cupped her buttocks with his palms, supporting her with his strength as he paid tribute to the intense emotions they shared. Culmination came slowly, heatedly, with a prolonged ecstasy that left her weak-kneed.

Breathing heavily, Tricia was attempting to speak when Drew adjusted his clothes and said in a gruff tone at odds with the sated passion in his eyes, “Wait here and don’t say anything or we’ll never get out of here.”

Able to do little else, Tricia struggled to catch her breath as Drew quickly packed the saddlebags and readied the horses. Turning back to her when he had tied her horse’s reins to his saddle, he then swept her up into his arms and placed her on his horse. Mounting behind her, he nudged his horse into motion as he settled her back against his chest and whispered into her ear, “Relax . . . sleep a little if you need to. It’s going to be a long day.”

Turning around to face him, Tricia protested, “I’m fine . . . really. You didn’t have to worry about me.”

The ardor in Drew’s gaze halted her dissent as he replied, “If you think I’m going to let you out of my arms a minute before I have to, you’re wrong. So just lean back and rest. You can ride back into Galveston on your own horse . . . that’s a promise . . . but until then, I want you near me.”

I want you near me.

Drew’s words sent tremors of emotion down Tricia’s spine. Facing forward again, she leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes as Drew pulled her closer.

Chantalle heard the growing activity downstairs with irritation. The sun was beginning to set, and patrons were arriving at a steady rate. They probably thought it strange that she wasn’t there to greet them at the door as was her custom, but she presently had little patience for that task.

Chantalle glanced out the window as the sun dropped rapidly toward the horizon. Tricia and Drew had been gone for three days. They had two long nights behind them, and she was concerned for Tricia in so many ways. Drew had described to Chantalle the approximate area where Willie’s family ranch was located, and they’d had plenty of time to reach it and inform Willie’s parents of his demise. She knew Willie’s parents wouldn’t waste time in coming to claim his body, and that Drew would waste even less time in returning to find Willie’s killer—providing he did not get distracted along the way.

Chantalle’s expression grew tense. She had expressed her disapproval of Tricia’s insistence on traveling with Drew, but Tricia had made up her mind. Tricia had insisted
they owed Willie that much, and Chantalle had been unable to talk her out of it. What worried her most was the fear that Tricia had lied to herself about her motives. Chantalle had seen the glances that Drew and Tricia occasionally exchanged. If Chantalle had realized how close the two would become, she would have found someone else to tend him during the critical days of his illness.

Aware there was no point in such retrospection, Chantalle forced those thoughts from her mind. Tricia and Drew still had not returned.

Where were they? What had happened to them?

Chantalle took a breath and made her decision. If they didn’t come back before sunset, she’d send a search party out to find them in the morning.

With that matter firmly settled in her mind, Chantalle stared out the window. The question Colonel Madison had asked her just before concluding his interview returned again to mind.

Could there have been any reason other than robbery why someone would want to hurt Willie?

She had responded in the negative, and Colonel Madison had appeared to dismiss the thought, but his question had returned to haunt her.

Simon Gault’s hatred for Whit Hawk—the man who had thwarted him at every turn and who she had come to believe was possibly Drew’s brother—was an accepted fact. She also knew that Angie was not above passing along information to Simon whenever it benefited her.

Was it mere coincidence that the first person she’d asked to deliver an important message to Whit Hawk
at La Posada had not lived to deliver it? Was it also a coincidence that poor Hiram Charters’s body had been found on the trail with his pockets turned inside out just like Willie’s, so that his death, too, was pronounced a robbery?

Chantalle had recently sent Will to La Posada with another urgent message for Whit, telling him she had something important to discuss with him.

She knew Simon well. He was vindictive and would do anything to get revenge on Whit—but would he go so far as to have Willie killed to prevent a possible reconciliation between the brothers?

Chantalle took a shaky breath as a final, chilling question came to her mind. Did that also mean that the threat to either Whit or Drew remained?

Angie’s familiar footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Chantalle turned sharply toward the door. She stepped into the corridor as Angie attempted to pass with a grinning, well-sated cowpoke beside her. Forcing a smile, Chantalle said, “If you don’t mind, Johnny, I need to talk to Angie. You know the way downstairs. Just tell Jake I said to give you a drink on the house when you get there.”

Grinning more broadly, Johnny replied, “Thank you, ma’am. That’s right kind of you.”

Noting Angie’s surprise, Chantalle walked back into her office. She closed the door behind Angie as the sultry brunette followed her inside. She said flatly in response to Angie’s raised brow, “I need to know something, Angie. Did you tell Simon that I sent Will with a message for Whit Hawk shortly after Drew collapsed downstairs?”

Angie looked at her blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Angie. This is too important. I know Simon pays you to keep him informed about what happens around here.”

“You’re crazy, Chantalle. Simon is a regular here, and I’m the only woman who can handle him, but that’s as far as it goes.” She shivered unexpectedly. “To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure of that anymore. He gives me the creeps.”

“But his money doesn’t.”

“I told you, I don’t spy for Simon.” She shrugged again and added, “You know me. I keep my eyes and ears open around here. I might’ve mentioned some things to Simon when we were together, and maybe he showed me his appreciation whenever he could, but that’s in the past. Things are different now. He’s getting to be more than even I can handle.”

Chantalle raised her brows. “I thought no man was a problem for you.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but Simon . . .” Angie hesitated. Her color draining, she added more softly, “I don’t know . . . the way he looks at me sometimes, I think he’d as soon kill me as he would close that bedroom door behind us.”

Angie’s paleness seemed to confirm her fear, and Chantalle hesitated. Angie glanced away revealingly, and Chantalle realized that the girl had already begun to regret confiding in her.

Dismissing Angie abruptly, Chantalle watched as the door closed behind the younger woman. She turned back to the window and stared blindly out at the
rapidly setting sun. Had Angie lied to her? Maybe. The truth was, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

Her body aching from the journey, Tricia rode alongside Drew as they entered the city of Galveston at last. Their mounts’ hooves clapped on the cobbled streets as shadows created by gaslights flickered against buildings that had begun going silent for the evening. The traffic of the day had all but stopped on the streets, but Tricia knew that the reverse would be true at Chantalle’s house, where the activity of the evening had barely begun.

Tricia glanced at Drew, riding silently attentive to their surroundings. She had felt the gradual stiffening of his posture as they approached Galveston. She had noted the regret in his voice when he finally said, “We’ll be in the city soon.”

BOOK: Hawk's Prize
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