Nightway (30 page)

He started with her feet, spreading lotion over the sole and arch, then rubbing it in with slow, firm strokes, separating her toes. The sensation was altogether too pleasant for Lanna to remain stiff under his soothing touch. Her ankle was flexed and massaged as Hawk worked his way to the calf of her leg. When his
kneading fingers reached the inside of her thighs, where she was the sorest, she flinched from the hands that bestowed a strange combination of pleasure and pain.

“Relax,” he chided gently.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Lanna murmured, but she didn’t resist again the hands manipulating her stiff muscles into a state of relaxation. “Don’t you have any ambition, Hawk?”

“Are you planning to reform me?” He repeated the procedure on her other leg, starting with her foot and working up to her thigh.

“No.” She smiled against her hand, and closed her eyes to savor the delicious tingling of her flesh. “I don’t think I’d want you to be any different from the way you are. It’s just that Chad mentioned it, and I … wondered if it was true.”

“Do you mean you’re doubting Chad? That’s a step in the right direction,” Hawk murmured the dry comment. “If by ambition, you mean a desire for power and excessive wealth, the answer is ’no,’ I don’t have any ambition.”

Straddling her legs, he began rubbing the tender flesh of her derriere, massaging its dimpled cheeks. His touch both soothed and stimulated, impersonal yet intimate. Lanna tried to keep her pulse from running away with itself.

“Is something wrong?” Hawk questioned in an amused and knowing tone.

“As if you didn’t know.” She shifted under his hands, seeking to escape them, but he pressed her flat.

“Lie still. I’ll behave.”

Lanna obeyed and tried to divert her mind to thoughts other than those connected with this absorption with sensation. “Wouldn’t you enjoy the challenge of running an enterprise? You own half the ranch now. What will you do with it?”

“What do you think I should do with it?”

“Why do you keep dodging my questions? You’re worse than a politician,” Lanna grumbled. “What was your major in college?”

“Business administration.” Hawk paused before he added: “With a minor in political science.”

“I might have known,” she laughed softly. “You’re a natural.”

“So I’ve been told.” His hands began working their magic on her waist and lower back. “I’ve had a lot of practice at riding the fence.”

“Mmm, that feels good,” Lanna murmured as his thumbs glided up her spine to the base of her neck. “I think Chad feels threatened by you. Is it because you are intelligent and educated, probably as capable of running Faulkner Enterprise as he is?”

“Chad has never had to learn to think on his feet. He’s a plodder. He has to have a plan before he can act. If something upsets it, he becomes disorganized.” Which wasn’t a direct answer to her question. “If you have to talk, try a subject other than Chad,” he advised and began pummeling her shoulder blades with the sides of his hands. Under the circumstances, Lanna couldn’t talk about anything.

When he was finished, Hawk straightened to stand on his knees. “Roll over.”

Lanna twisted around to lie on her back, facing him. Shifting his position, he began rubbing his lotion-slick hands on the taut cords just above her knees. Lanna watched the rippling muscles in his shoulders and sinewy arms with growing fascination. The light from the bathroom gleamed on the pale copper hue of his skin and glistened on the blackness of his hair.

Stimulated by a slow-growing desire, she became sensitive to his touch. Instinct prompted her hips to move in silent invitation to his massaging hands. Hawk
ignored it. She might have controlled the leaping fire inside if she hadn’t seen he was becoming aroused.

“Hawk.” She reached for his hand to draw it to her breast and pull him forward.

There wasn’t any need to say more. His mouth covered hers with drugging force. It was a spontaneous combustion of passion as Hawk fitted himself to her arching hips. He dragged his mouth away from her lips to bury it in her throat long enough to murmur, “If you wake up stiff and sore in the morning, you have the consolation of knowing the others will assume it’s from riding, instead of being ridden. But how the hell am I supposed to explain it if I wind up sore?”

But he didn’t expect an answer from Lanna. Which was just as well, because she wasn’t capable of giving him one. Passion whipped their bodies to the point of exhaustion. Physically drained and emotionally spent, Lanna fell asleep in his arms. In repose, her face was soft with satisfaction.

As he had done the last time, Hawk slipped silently away when the first streaks of dawn were lacing the night sky. The sun was high before Lanna awakened to discover she was alone in the bed. Her disappointment was tempered by the knowledge that it had to be that way.

Strolling under the shade trees, Lanna was heading for the stables. The birds were singing among the spreading limbs. Their cheerful melodies matched her own spirits, so she dawdled to listen. Her gaze roamed the branches overhead, but only rarely did she catch a flash of color as a bird flitted through the leaves to another perch.

In addition to being dressed in designer jeans, new boots, and a cream-colored silk blouse, she wore a
flat-crowned hat, more Argentine in style than Wild West. The throat string dangled loosely below her chin. As she emerged from the trees into the ranch yard proper, Lanna heard voices. She glanced in their direction, hoping that Hawk might be among them. But the trio consisted of Chad, his mother, and Tom Rawlins, all walking in the general direction of the main house.

Abruptly, she angled away from them, taking a more direct line to the stables. She hadn’t seen Chad or his mother yet this morning. Even though Carol had noticed nothing amiss when they had shared coffee, Lanna wanted to be by herself a while longer. The three had seemed very engrossed in their conversation; she hoped they wouldn’t notice her.

“Lanna?!”

When Chad called to her, she turned and waved. “Good morning!” Then she continued on her way.

“Wait.” He wasn’t satisfied with only a greeting and came after her in a jogging run. Lanna stopped when she heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel and waited for him to catch up with her. In her good mood, it was easy to smile, even if she didn’t welcome his interruption. Chad looked fresh and vigorously handsome when he finally reached her, a puzzled smile splitting his expression. “Where are you going?”

“To the stables. I thought I might go for a ride.” With luck she might see Hawk. “I mentioned to Carol that I was considering it,” she added to stave off any lecture from him.

“But it’s nearly lunchtime,” he protested.

“I overslept again this morning. I just had a big breakfast, so I decided to skip lunch.” Actually, she had been positively ravenous when she had sat down at the table in the morning room.

“You don’t look nearly as tired this morning,” Chad observed as his gaze wandered over her in open admiration. “There’s more color in your cheeks. All this rest is agreeing with you. I’m glad.”

“Something definitely is.” She nodded and smiled broadly.

“Is there any reason you have to go riding now? If you wait until after lunch, I’ll come with you. By the way, how are the muscles this morning?” His glance slid suggestively downward to the rounded curves of her hips, outlined by the snuggly fitted denims.

“Just a little stiff,” Lanna admitted. “I thought if I rode today, they would loosen up. Thanks for the offer to come with me, but I don’t expect you to hold my hand all the time. I can manage on my own.”

“I don’t like the idea of you riding alone. It’s easy to get lost in this country,” Chad explained with a wry grimace. “This is the busy time of year on the ranch, too. I’d hate to have to pull the boys off the range to organize a search party for you.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” She nibbled at her lip, recognizing the logic of what he said. “I guess I could wait.”

“Come up to the house. You can have some coffee or iced tea while I eat lunch.” His hand reached out to take her arm, expecting her acceptance as a matter of course.

“I’d rather just wander around outside.” She eluded the suggestion without making it a rejection of him. “It’s too nice to be indoors.” As she turned her head in an encompassing gesture to indicate the pleasures offered by the sunny day, Lanna noticed the solitary figure walking up the ranch driveway. “Who is that?”

Chad followed her gaze. “Looks like an Indian,” he said on a note of contempt. “Probably coming for a
handout. The fool should know better than to come here. Rawlins will send him on his way fast enough.”

As the figure grew more distinct, Lanna felt a tug of recognition. “I think I know him,” she murmured.

“You know him?” Chad repeated in surprise. “Why should you know an Indian?”

She stared at the torn and dirty pink blanket wrapped around the stooped shoulders. It wasn’t possible that it could belong to any other Indian. There was even a bedraggled red feather stuck in straight, gray-black hair. The major difference from the last time she’d seen him was that the Indian wasn’t weaving in a drunken stagger. He was tiredly marching in a straight line.

“I don’t actually know him,” Lanna admitted. “But I met him once when I was with your father.”

“Where did you meet him?” The sharpness of Chad’s demand surprised Lanna.

“Outside a museum. Does it matter?” She frowned at the grimness he was trying to conceal. Katheryn and Tom Rawlins had come up behind Chad. Their attention, too, was focused on the Indian.

“No. Of course not,” Chad assured her.

Lanna turned back. The Indian had seen them standing there and proudly squared his shoulders as he approached, striving for an air of dignity. He was dirty; there was a sallowness to his brown skin; but this time he was sober. Plodding wearily, he didn’t stop until he reached them. His eyes were black and bright as he searched their faces.

“Hello, Bobby Crow Dog,” Lanna greeted him by name and smiled.

He stared at her with a puzzled look. “Do I know you?” His speech no longer followed the idiomatic pattern of an uneducated Indian.

“I don’t think you would remember me,” she told
him. “But I met you about a month ago. You had a necklace of cedar beads that you wanted John—John Faulkner—to buy for me.”

“It is possible,” he conceded, then pulled himself up to his full height. “I have come to see J. B. Faulkner.”

“He’s dead,” Chad announced with almost brutal frankness.

Hope faded from the black eyes, leaving them flat. Lanna watched his posture slump under the weight of the news, his height decreasing by several inches. He looked vaguely lost and bewildered.

“I’m sorry, Bobby Crow Dog,” Lanna offered in sympathy.

“White Sage was there, as he remembered her, to take his hand and guide Laughing Eyes on the long journey to the afterworld. I know this,” he stated dully. His words drew a stifled gasp from Katheryn. Lanna glanced behind her, but Katheryn was already walking rigidly away from the group. “He said I should go home.” Bobby Crow Dog was talking again and Lanna turned back. He lifted his tired and wrinkled face to Chad. “I have come a long way to see my old friend.”

“You didn’t walk all the way from Phoenix, did you?” Lanna was amazed that he would have the strength to make such a trek.

His expression changed as he adopted the look of a buffoon. “I ride my thumb.” Then he was aping the action described by his words—hopping around with his hand between his legs. Lanna shuddered at the spectacle he made of himself. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Bobby Crow Dog laughed, revealing a fine row of teeth that had grown yellow with neglect. “It is funny to ride your thumb.”

“Yes, it’s very funny.” She smiled weakly and realized he had probably often made himself the butt of a joke to gain acceptance or a handout.

His face became sad, a little pleading. “I have a hunger that is killing me. Is there food for an old friend of his? Maybe a warm place to sleep? The ground is hard and cold, and my blanket has holes.”

The humble questions were directed at Chad. Lanna turned to him, too, her hazel eyes adding her own plea to Bobby Crow Dog’s. There was a reassuring warmth in Chad’s expression.

“I remember that my father knew you, Bobby Crow Dog,” Chad said. “Rawlins will take you to the bunkhouse. You’ll find there’s plenty of food and a good bed to sleep in. You are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

The broken red feather dipped as the Indian bowed his head in grateful acknowledgment of the invitation. “Thank you. You are a good son. He would be proud of you for remembering an old friend.”

“Tom.” Chad motioned the ranch manager to come forward. “Take him and see that he gets something to eat.”

Rawlins didn’t seem too pleased with the order, but he obeyed. He waved to the Indian to come with him. As they walked away, Lanna saw Bobby Crow Dog bend toward the wiry, thin foreman.

“Maybe there is whiskey,” he suggested eagerly. “I have cedar beads, a genuine Navaho-made necklace. My cousin strung it. Or I could give you a magic eyescope with a naked lady inside.”

Lanna’s gaze made a downward sweep, away from the two men walking toward the bunkhouse. “I’m glad you asked him to stay, Chad.”

“Yes. Isn’t he the one who used to make movies in Hollywood?” His head tipped toward her. “I vaguely remember J. B. mentioning that name.”

“Yes, he’s the one.” Lanna nodded.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go see if Tom and I
can find some clean clothes for him, and arrange for a bath. He could use it. I could smell him from where I was standing.” Chad smiled faintly before he moved to follow the foreman and the old Indian.

His thoughtfulness warmed her. It was so typical of Chad. Lanna had started to turn away when she saw Hawk crossing the yard toward her. His gaze briefly followed the departing Chad and lingered for several seconds on the blanket-clad figure walking with Rawlins. It struck Lanna how intensely the two brothers disliked one another—and she was attracted to both of them. It was an uncomfortable situation. What would she do if she was ever forced to choose? And how much trouble would it cause?