daring him to take it. A wicked light danced in devilish blue eyes as Hawk knelt to engage in a last, playful wrestling match with her.
The instant his knee touched the ground, he felt the vibrations … caused by galloping hooves. A second later, he was standing tall, scanning the landscape for the source. The aftermath of passion had drugged his senses, lessening their normal keenness, or he would have been warned of the approaching horses and riders before they were this close.
“Get dressed.” This time it was a flat order. “Someone’s coming.”
“Oh, my God!” Carol whispered in panic and scrambled to her feet, snatching up her jeans and hastily pulling them on.
Even before the four riders came close enough for Hawk to see their faces clearly, he recognized them. The two riders lagging behind were ranch hands, Bill Short and Luther Wilcox. The man sitting so stiffly inhis saddle was Chad Faulkner. He was riding beside Tom Rawlins.
“Oh, no! It’s Daddy!” Carol sobbed behind him and Hawk turned to find her fumbling with the snap on her jeans.
Making a lightning-quick assessment, Hawk realized there was no hope of fooling Rawlins. His view of the scene might have been limited by distance, but Rawlins would have seen enough to know what had preceded his arrival. Reaching down, he scooped his shirt off the ground and slipped his arms into the sleeves, but he made no attempt to button it or tuck it into his denims. Carol’s hands were still all thumbs, unable to fasten the hook of her bra when he turned away to step between her and the quartet of riders, led by her father.
Fifteen feet away, the horses were reined to a sliding halt as the riders piled out of their saddles. Hawk’s attention focused on Rawlins, paying scant heed to the riders who flanked the man who was now striding forward. Rawlins was small-built but wire-tough. The man’s quietness was deceptive, but Hawk had never underestimated the man’s strength or will. Running a ranch this size, as Rawlins did, meant keeping thirty and more rough and rowdy cowhands in line, something the man had been doing for more than half of Hawk’s life.
A fair man. If Rawlins had a blind spot, it was his daughter. She could do no wrong in his eyes. Hawk knew this situation was going to rearrange his timetable, moving forward his marriage plans to this summer instead of the next. Hawk respected this man who had taken him in, raised him, and taught him everything he knew about cattle and ranching. No matter how severely tested his temper was, Rawlins had always been a man who listened to reason.
But at the moment, the savagely hard and coldexpression on the man’s face didn’t appear to belong to someone willing to listen to explanations. Hawk stood his ground, meeting the raging look of the man facing him without flinching. Behind him, he could hear Carol breathing in gasping sobs.
“What the hell is this?” Rawlins thundered. “What have you done to my little girl?”
Prepared for such an outburst, Hawk didn’t let the anger touch him. “Tom, I—” He never had a chance to finish the sentence.
“Daddy, I didn’t want to,” Carol sobbed in shrill hysteria. “He made me, Daddy. He held me down.”
Stunned by this false accusation, Hawk jerked his head around to stare at her. Tears were washing down her face, stained red with shame. The white straps of her bra were falling loosely off her shoulders as she huddled behind the blouse she held in front of her. The watery green of her eyes was focused on her father, pleading with him. Hawk felt the sickening shock of betrayal.
“I treated you like a son, you goddamned son-of-a-bitchin’ bastard!” Rawlins snarled in hate. “And you repay me by raping my baby!”
Hawk turned back to forcefully deny the charge, but he never had a chance to speak. What felt like a steel rod was rammed into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs and doubling him in half. A fist exploded against his jaw,
The instant his knee touched the ground, he felt the vibrations … caused by galloping hooves. A second later, he was standing tall, scanning the landscape for the source. The aftermath of passion had drugged his senses, lessening their normal keenness, or he would have been warned of the approaching horses and riders before they were this close.
“Get dressed.” This time it was a flat order. “Someone’s coming.”
“Oh, my God!” Carol whispered in panic and scrambled to her feet, snatching up her jeans and hastily pulling them on.
Even before the four riders came close enough for Hawk to see their faces clearly, he recognized them. The two riders lagging behind were ranch hands, Bill Short and Luther Wilcox. The man sitting so stiffly inhis saddle was Chad Faulkner. He was riding beside Tom Rawlins.
“Oh, no! It’s Daddy!” Carol sobbed behind him and Hawk turned to find her fumbling with the snap on her jeans.
Making a lightning-quick assessment, Hawk realized there was no hope of fooling Rawlins. His view of the scene might have been limited by distance, but Rawlins would have seen enough to know what had preceded his arrival. Reaching down, he scooped his shirt off the ground and slipped his arms into the sleeves, but he made no attempt to button it or tuck it into his denims. Carol’s hands were still all thumbs, unable to fasten the hook of her bra when he turned away to step between her and the quartet of riders, led by her father.
Fifteen feet away, the horses were reined to a sliding halt as the riders piled out of their saddles. Hawk’s attention focused on Rawlins, paying scant heed to the riders who flanked the man who was now striding forward. Rawlins was small-built but wire-tough. The man’s quietness was deceptive, but Hawk had never underestimated the man’s strength or will. Running a ranch this size, as Rawlins did, meant keeping thirty and more rough and rowdy cowhands in line, something the man had been doing for more than half of Hawk’s life.
A fair man. If Rawlins had a blind spot, it was his daughter. She could do no wrong in his eyes. Hawk knew this situation was going to rearrange his timetable, moving forward his marriage plans to this summer instead of the next. Hawk respected this man who had taken him in, raised him, and taught him everything he knew about cattle and ranching. No matter how severely tested his temper was, Rawlins had always been a man who listened to reason.
But at the moment, the savagely hard and coldexpression on the man’s face didn’t appear to belong to someone willing to listen to explanations. Hawk stood his ground, meeting the raging look of the man facing him without flinching. Behind him, he could hear Carol breathing in gasping sobs.
“What the hell is this?” Rawlins thundered. “What have you done to my little girl?”
Prepared for such an outburst, Hawk didn’t let the anger touch him. “Tom, I—” He never had a chance to finish the sentence.
“Daddy, I didn’t want to,” Carol sobbed in shrill hysteria. “He made me, Daddy. He held me down.”
Stunned by this false accusation, Hawk jerked his head around to stare at her. Tears were washing down her face, stained red with shame. The white straps of her bra were falling loosely off her shoulders as she huddled behind the blouse she held in front of her. The watery green of her eyes was focused on her father, pleading with him. Hawk felt the sickening shock of betrayal.
“I treated you like a son, you goddamned son-of-a-bitchin’ bastard!” Rawlins snarled in hate. “And you repay me by raping my baby!”
Hawk turned back to forcefully deny the charge, but he never had a chance to speak. What felt like a steel rod was rammed into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs and doubling him in half. A fist exploded against his jaw,
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