Part 5 (1/2)

Nor did Hawk mind particularly. It was how the game was played, and he had known it since his eighteenth birthday. That was the day he learned that to be an emotionally honest man in a world of lies is to be a fool.

Angel finished her small omelet, stood, and began to clear the table.

Derry looked out at the strait. Tiny lights bobbed about, marking the sport-fis.h.i.+ng boats pouring out of the Campbell River marina into the strait.

aLeave the dishes,a Derry said. aYouall miss the tide.a aWeave already missed it,a Angel said, sighing.

Hawk heard the wistfulness in Angel voice.

aYou actually like fis.h.i.+ng?a Hawk asked, surprised.

aNo, Iam actually crazy about it.a aSheas good at it too,a Derry said. aBetter than I am. She knows just where to go, how deep to fish, what lure to use, which little coves and bays and headlandsa”a aEnough,a Angel dryly interrupted. aHawk obviously isnat a fisherman.a aWhy do you say that?a asked Hawk.

aYou were on the phone when we should have been on the water.a aThat was business.a aLike I said, not a fisherman,a Angel said succinctly. aNothing, but nothing, gets in the way of a dawn salmon raid if youare a fisherman.a Derry chuckled.

aGive the man a break,a Derry said. aHeas never caught a salmon, so he doesnat know what heas missing.a Angel looked at Hawk, who returned the look with interest. In the odd radiant predawn light, her eyes were dark green, very brilliant against the pale nimbus of her hair.

aHave you ever fished at all?a Angel asked as she bent over to take Hawkas plate.

Hawk remembered the small reservoir on the farm where he had grown up. Whenever his father could steal a few minutes from the endless demands of a marginal farm, the two of them would go to the reservoir. One of the few times Hawk could ever remember his father laughing was when he had pulled a ten-pound catfish out of the opaque water.

aIave fished once or twice,a Hawk said, his voice husky, almost yearning.

The changed quality of Hawkas voice made Angelas throat tighten. She saw the poignant shadow of memories cross his face, softening for a moment the harsh lines around his mouth.

Without warning, Angel felt tears burn behind her eyelids. She sensed that Hawkas memories were like he was, bittersweet and lonely, complex and sometimes cruel. She wanted to ease the bitterness, enhance the sweetness, enrich the complexity with all the colors of emotion.

As for Hawkas occasional cruelty, it didnat frighten Angel. For a time after the car wreck she had been unspeakably cruel to those around her. Finally the time of cruelty had pa.s.sed, leaving her purged.

Angel looked up into the dark eyes that were so close to her. Her fingers curled around a fork that still retained the heat of Hawkas body.

aYouall catch a dawn salmon this summer,a she said softly to Hawk. aI promise you.a Before Hawk could answer, Angel straightened and turned, removing Hawkas plate and silverware. In silence she stacked dishes into the dishwasher, moving quickly. Even though they had missed the tide, she was eager to be out on the water.

aReady?a she asked, looking up.

Hawk was watching her, had been watching her since she had promised him a dawn salmon in a voice vibrant with emotion. Without making a sound, he set down his empty mug.

aIave been ready since I was eighteen,a Hawk said.

6.

When Hawk heard his own words, his face settled into its normal enigmatic lines, concealing thoughts and emotions behind a mahogany mask. Silently he helped Angel carry everything out to the car. There was quite a lot. Groceries, a pile of fis.h.i.+ng gear, jackets, and even a sketchbook Angel had thrown in at the last instant.

Hawk looked up from the gear heaped in his BMW.

aAre we going to Alaska?a asked Hawk dryly.

aWhat a wonderful idea,a Angel said in a wistful voice. aIave always wanted to sail the Inside Pa.s.sage.a Hawk gave her a hooded, a.s.sessing look.

aBut thatas not on our list this summer,a Angel said.

She started s.h.i.+fting the bags around until she could close the trunk of the car. Hawk started to help, then stopped, riveted by the high, wild whistle of an eagle calling to the dawn.

He looked up into the sky with dark, fierce eyes, searching for the bird.

A black shape plummeted down, wings flared, talons outstretched. The prey was hidden from Hawkas sight in the tall gra.s.s, but the raptor had no such problem. The bird struck and mantled its dying prey with half-spread wings, protecting it from view.

Then the eagleas uncanny eyes spotted the two people standing so quietly. With a high, angry cry, the eagle took flight, carrying its prey to the treetops.

The sky was flushed with the delicate, transparent colors of true dawn. Across the strait, serrated ranks of mountains loomed like fragments of night, black and yet strangely radiant. Overhead a few tufted clouds burned scarlet, then molten gold.

A feeling of exhilaration speared through Hawk. He lifted his face to the sky, letting sunrise wash over him. He had spent too much time indoors since he had left the farm. He hadnat known how much he had missed the sky until this moment.

From the thrusting rock summit of Eagle Head came again the untamed cry of a bird of prey.

Angel looked up, saw the fierce pleasure on Hawkas face, and felt desire s.h.i.+ver through her. The feeling shocked her in the instants before she accepted it.

I shouldnat be surprised by pa.s.sion. I chose to live after Grant died in the wreck. Love and desire are a natural part of life.

Just because I havenat wanted any man for three years doesnat mean that I would never want a man again.

Even as Angel admitted the intensity of her attraction to Hawk, she knew that she could be hurt badly by him. Hawk was as hard a man as she had ever met. Yet beneath that hardness she sensed a yearning for beauty, for warmth, for . . . love. Without that yearning, she wouldnat have been attracted to him.

But Angel knew there was no guarantee that she would be the one to touch Hawkas yearning. There was no guarantee that anyone could touch it, even Hawk himself.

He was strong. He had lived a long time alone.

So had she.

Am I ready to risk my hard-won serenity for a man who might no longer believe in love?

She closed the trunk with a sharp, metallic sound that brought Hawkas attention back from the sky. He watched as she got into the car. After a momentas hesitation he slid behind the wheel, reluctant to break the luminous silence of the British Columbia dawn.

Angel said nothing during the drive, however, apparently as pleased as Hawk was by the quiet and the colors radiating through the sky.

They parked at the marina and stepped out to the keening of gulls and the smell of the sea. As one, Angel and Hawk began to carry supplies down the wooden dock to the slips.

When Angel saw Hawkas boat, she stopped in the middle of the dock and stared. The yacht was over thirty feet long and had the sleek lines that were the hallmark of Italian powerboats. A single glance told her that the boat would handle beautifully, riding the often rough water of the Inside Pa.s.sage with the ease of a hawk soaring on boiling currents of air.

aSheas beautiful,a Angel said simply, turning toward Hawk. aWhatas her name?a aI havenat given her one.a Angel realized that the boat was as new as it looked, polished and s.h.i.+ning like the sun rising over the sea.

aDonat name her too quickly,a Angel said. aA boat gets only one name. This one deserves the best.a aBecause itas pretty?a Hawk asked casually, stepping onto the boatas s.h.i.+fting deck without hesitation.

aThis boat isnat pretty,a said Angel, looking at its lines with appreciative eyes. aItas magnificent. Form and function perfectly married. Nothing unnecessary. Nothing missing.a Hawk turned and looked back over his shoulder at Angel. She didnat notice. She had eyes only for the glistening white boat.

His lips curved sardonically.

aExpensive, too,a Hawk said.