«Some of them were. And some of them were cut deep into the ground.»
«Like a horse carrying a man?» Eve asked.
«Or a horse digging in to shy away from an irritable neighbor. A lot of nipping and squealing goes on at a water hole this small.»
Eve made a sound of exasperation and licked her dry lips.
«Don’t worry, gata,» Reno said. «I’m not planning on making you go without your bath.»
She smiled with delight. As she did, she realized that somewhere along the hot, hard trail to Spanish gold, she had lost her displeasure over Reno’s nickname for her.
Or maybe it was simply that his voice had lost its cutting edge when he called hergata. Now his tone was darkly caressing, as though she were indeed a wary cat being coaxed closer and closer to his hand for a thorough petting.
The thought brought a flush to Eve’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat radiating from the canyon’s stone walls.
«Cover me from here while I fill the canteens,» Reno said. «When I’m finished, I’ll water the horses one by one.»
By the time the canteens, the humans, and the horses had drunk their fill and returned to the small side canyon, the sun no longer touched even the highest edges of the rock walls. The air was hushed, for no breeze disturbed the hidden canyon. Shadows flowed out from every crevice, pooled, and rose in a soundless tide. Overhead the sky flushed darkly with the passionate hues of sunset.
While Reno took care of the horses, Eve built a small fire against a boulder. By the time the smoke rose to the boulder’s top, nothing remained to give away the camp’s presence but a faint fragrance of pinon fire and coffee. With the meager light of the flames to aid her, Eve ate quickly and gathered up what she would need for a «bath.»
Silently Reno watched Eve walk out into the darkness with a canteen, a small metal pan, a soft rag, and a piece of soap. The faded dress made of old flour sacks was draped over her shoulder. He couldn’t decide if she was going to wear it back to camp or use it as a towel.
«Don’t go far,» Reno said.
Though he had spoken quite softly, Eve froze.
«And take the shotgun with you.»
Reno followed the small sounds Eve made as she picked up her shotgun and walked once more into the darkness. She didn’t go far. Just enough to be well beyond the reach of light from the fire.
Reno heard the muted splash of water and told himself he could not possibly hear the subtle whisper of cloth against skin as Eve undressed. Nor could he hear her sigh of pleasure as the cool water caressed her. He most certainly couldn’t hear her breath shiver when her nipples peaked in response to the wet cloth. But he could imagine it.
And he did.
10
The air felt sleek and cool on Eve’s damp skin as she finished her bath. She shivered, but not from chill. Like the half-wild, wary mustangs, Eve sensed she was no longer alone. She shook out her flour-sack dress and hurriedly pulled it on over her head.
«Finished?»
Reno’s voice came from only a few feet away.
Eve spun toward him, her eyes wide. He was standing within reach. Clean clothes were bunched in one hand.
«Yes,» she whispered. «I’m finished.»
«Then you won’t mind if I use the basin.»
«Oh…»
Eve took a shaky breath and told herself she wasn’t disappointed that Reno had followed her merely because he, too, wished to refresh himself after the long ride. Quickly she held out the basin.
«Here,» she said.
«May I use your cloth, too?»
The husky darkness of Reno’s voice heightened Eve’s awareness of him until it was almost painful. Her skin tingled as though it had been stroked.
«Yes, of course,» she said.
«And your soap?»
She nodded.
The motion of her head set her carelessly bound hair free of its loose knot. Moonlight tangled in the tawny locks that fell below her waist.
«And your hands, gata. May I use them, too?»
Reno heard the break in Eve’s breathing and wished that he could see her eyes. He wanted to know whether curiosity or dread, sensuality or fear, had caused that soft, tearing intake of breath.
«I know that wasn’t part of our bargain,» he said, «but I would appreciate a shave. Heat makes beard stubble itch like the very devil.»
«Oh. Yes, of course,» she said hurriedly.
«Have you shaved a man before?»
Moonlight gleamed and ran like liquid silver through Eve’s hair as she nodded.
«And cut hair,» she said. «And gave manicures.»
«Another way you earned your keep, is that it?»
The edge in Reno’s voice made Eve flinch.
«Yes,» she said.
Then, knowing what he was thinking, she added, «And none of them touched me.»
«Why? Did it cost extra?»
«No. I had a razor at their throat,» Eve said succinctly.
Reno remembered how he had seen her a few minutes ago, naked in the moonlight, all glistening silver and black velvet, with curves that made a man ache. He wanted to believe that she was as pure as she looked.
But he couldn’t.
Even night and shadow didn’t conceal Reno’s skepticism. Eve saw it clearly. Her expression changed, becoming as cool and remote as the moon.
«I never sold myself, gunfighter.»
Reno smiled rather grimly. He wanted to believe Eve the way he wanted to take his next breath. He would have given up heaven and taken on hell if it would have made Eve half as innocent as she had seemed as she stood naked, shimmering with moonlight and water.
The depth of his desire to believe that Eve had never been bought and sold shocked Reno. Yet he could no more deny his futile wish than he could control his primal response to something as simple as watching her move around the campfire.
Nor could Reno understand his reaction to Eve. He had never fancied saloon girls. Nor had he ever used them. He had preferred to go without rather than to slake his thirst at a tainted water hole. Yet he wanted Eve like hell burning, no matter how many other men she might have had in her young life.
That was why he had taken cards in the Gold Dust Saloon. A single look at Eve’s steady eyes and trembling mouth had drawn him straight across the room. He hadn’t cared if the two outlaws at the table with her objected to having a stranger join them for a few rounds of draw poker. He would have fought just to sit near her. He would have killed.
And he had.
Abruptly Reno turned and went to the smooth, blunt shelf of sandstone that Eve had used as a table for her basin of water. He sat on the rock ledge, put the clean clothes aside, and started undoing his shirt with quick, angry motions of his hands.
«Do you have a razor with you?» Eve asked.
Reno reached back to his hip pocket and took out a folding straight-edge razor. Without a word he handed it to Eve, for he didn’t trust his voice not to reveal how much he disliked the idea of her hands moving over other men’s faces, their hair, their hands; and all the while the men would be looking at her lips and her breasts, breathing in the scent of lilacs from her skin, undressing her in their minds, opening her thighs….
Warily Eve came closer to the dangerous man who watched her with eyes made colorless by moonlight. Years of living in the Lyons’ Gypsy wagon had taught her how to wash herself and others with a minimum of fuss and water. She wet Reno’s hair and heavy beard stubble and began to work soap into both.
Normally she stood behind a man to do this, but Reno was sitting on a smooth stone outcropping rather than a chair. She had no choice except to stand in front of him.
And, Eve admitted silently to herself, no real desire to stand elsewhere. She liked watching Reno’s closed eyes and knowing that her touch was pleasing him.
Slowly, subtly, Reno shifted his position as Eve worked. Before she quite understood how it had happened, she found herself standing between his legs. She made a startled sound.