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