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desire." "Thank you again, Sergeant," Tess said.

"I would dearly love a bath.

I'll take you up on your suggestion." She hurried to the back of the

wagon and found clean clothing, a bar of soap and a towel. When she

emerged again, Sergeant Monahah was unharnessing the mules. He pointed

toward the ridge.

She could see that some of the soldiers were headed in the other

direction.

She smiled again and hurried toward the ridge. She was puffing slightly

when she walked over it, but then she gasped with delight.

The brook was surrounded by boulders and high rocks, but there were

little tufts of grass growing between the rocks, and a few wildflowers

had managed to eke out an existence there. The evening was pink and gold

and very beautiful, and she could hear the sound of the water as it ran.

It looked so cool and delicious after the dry dust of the day.

She clambered down the rocks to a broad ledge, dropped her towel and

soap and clothing and sat down, hurriedly untying her shoes. Staring at

the clean, fresh water, she pulled her blouse from her skirt and quickly

shed it, then her skirt and shift and pantalcts and hose. She stepped

down the rock, so entranced by the water that she never once realized

she wasn't alone.

Barefoot and bare-chested, his cavalry trousers rolled above his ankles,

Jamie Slater sat in the shadow of a rock, swearing softly. His own bath

had just gone straight downhill. And he didn't mean to be a voyeur, but

she had stripped so damned quickly, and he'd been so darned surprised

that he had just stayed there.

Watching.

She was like a nymph, an angel cast out from the evils of the heat and

the plain. Her skin was alabaster, her breasts perfect. Her waist was

very trim, her derriere rich and lush and flaring out from that narrow

waist, and her legs were so long and shapely that they suggested the

most decadent dreams, the most sensual imaginings. Angel . vixen . her

hair streamed around her like the sunset, thick and cascading, falling

over her bare shoulders, curling around her breasts, haunting, teasing,

evocative.

He fell back, groaning slightly.

Tess didn't see him. She plunged into the water, amazed that she could

still draw such simple pleasure when the pain of. Joe's loss was still

so strongly with her. But she was still alive, and the water was so cool

and clean after the dust and filth of the plains. It came just to her

ankles at first, and there were little rocks and pebbles beneath her

feet, so she had to be careful walking. Then the water became deeper,

and she sank into it, stretching out, soaking her hair, floating,

shivering, delighted. The sun was still warm, the water almost cold, and

together they were marvelous. She swam around in the shallows, careful

not to hit her arms and legs on the pebbles, then found a smooth shelf

to stand on and scrubbed herself thoroughly with the soap, rising to

form rich suds, sinking beneath the surface again to rinse them away.

She scrubbed her hair, fee ring wonderful as she removed the dirt and

grime from her scalp. Finally she rose from the water. She paused,

ringing out her hair, then hut- fled to where she had left her things.

She picked up her towel and studiously rubbed herself dry, then sat upon

the ledge to dry her hair before donning her clean clothing.

She stretched, elosing her eyes and leaning against the rock, which was

still warm from the sun. The last of the dying rays touched her body,

and she elosed her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them, she nearly screamed, Lieutenant Slater was

standing above her. His shirt hung open over his chest, and he was

barefoot and grim.

She opened her mouth to protest. She was stark naked, and he was staring

down at her without the least apology. But when she opened her mouth, he

suddenly drew his gun and fired off several shots.

She'd never seen a gun move so fast or heard anything like the way the

Colt spit and fired in fury.

She didn't gasp; she didn't scream. She thought he had lost his mind,

but when she twisted to grasp her towel, she paused, stunned, staring at

the carcass of the dead moccasin that had been barely a foot away from

her.

She looked up at the lieutenant, unable to speak, unable to move. He had

saved her life, she realized. She had been completely unaware of the

snake that she had so carelessly disturbed.

He didn't say anything, just looked at her, his gray eyes sliding over

her body, and everywhere they touched her, she felt fire coursing

through her.

She felt her nipples harden, and she was horrified that they did so, but

still she didn't manage to say a word.

He slid his Colt into his hip holster and spoke at last. "You need to be

more careful about the rocks you choose, Miss. Stuart," he said.

She heard running footsteps. He quickly reached for her towel and handed

it to her. She clutched it to her breasts as a young private suddenly

appeared.

"Lieutenant! I heard the shots!"

"It's all right, Hardy. It was me. A snake. Nothing that could shoot

back."

The private was ~taring at them, wide-eyed. "That's all, Hardy."

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant."

The private saluted. Slater saluted in return. Then he tipped his hat to

her and turned around. Tess reddened to a dark crimson and watched as he

picked his way upstream. She saw his socks and boots on a flat boulder,

and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. He had been there all the

time.

She leaped to her feet and hurried into her fresh clean clothing with

shaking fingers. She could barely tie her pink ribboned corset, and she

had to do the buttons on her blouse twice.

She pulled on clean hose and her shoes and looked at the rock.

He was waiting. Waiting for her to leave. He sat on the ledge, his toes

in the water.

He looked up as if he felt her watching him.

"It's almost dark, Miss. Stuart, if you don't mind."

"If I don't mind! You--you sat there through my bath, Lieutenant!"

she sputtered.

"Lucky I did," he replied pleasantly.

She was alive. Maybe she was lucky. But that wasn't the point, and he

knew it.

He shrugged, rising, casting off his shirt.

"It really doesn't matter that much to me, Miss. Stuart. You're welcome

to stay. Maybe you'll even want to join me ... ?" She swung around,

furious.

He was ready to strip down with her standing right there. He'd sat and

stared at her while she had been completely naked, assuming she was

alone.

She'd given him a whole damned show in the water! Swearing softly, she

plodded away, anxious to quit the brook. She hurried to her wagon and

sat on the bunk, hugging her arms to her chest.

Damn him. Just remembering his eyes upon her made her breasts swell

again and her nipples harden to taut peaks.

When she closed her eyes it didn't help. She remembered the way that his

shirt had hung open over his chest, and the sandy dark hair that grew in

rich profusion there, the ripple of tight muscle on his abdomen, the

swell of it at his breast and shoulders.

"Miss. Stuart?" It was Sergeant Monahan. "Yes?" She almost shouted the

word.

He was at the rear of the wagon, smiling.

"Wasn't that just the prettiest little brook you've ever seen?"

"Absolutely beautiful," she said evenly. But it didn't

matter--apparently word of the shots had gotten out.

Another one of the men stepped behind Monahan, nodding respectfully to

her.

"Monahan! Hardy says she almost got it from a moccasin. Luckily the

lieutenant was near and blasted the thing to kingdom come. Ma'am, it is