"It's cold, but you can wash there. Bathe if you like. I get our drinking water from the source so you don't have to worry that it will be contaminated. There's soap in that trunk and liniment in my saddlebags." Mary looked longingly at the water, then back at Ryder, less critically this time. There was no gold here, he'd said. Did she dare believe him? Did she dare not?

"I'd like a bath," she said quietly.

"And perhaps I could wash my habit."

From beneath her wide sleeve she pulled out her dusty veil and wimple.

"And these."

"Whatever you like."

"Are there towels?"

"This isn't a hotel."

"I'm not likely to make that mistake. I just thought-" She glanced around the room.

"It seems you have all the important amenities." He took pity on her.

Her eyes were large and impossibly green, and for just a moment she had been uncertain.

"In the trunk with the soap. I'll get them both for you." Mary exchanged the torch she was holding for the soap when

Ryder brought it. She eased herself carefully onto the flat stones that ringed the small pool and took off her shoes and stockings.

Looking sideways at Ryder, she raised her black skirt slightly and massaged her calves.

"You already bathed," she said.

"Alone." It wasn't a question; it was a hint. Ryder hesitated.

"There's no way out," she said.

"I'm not going anywhere." His eyes narrowed on her face a moment longer.

"Very well," he said at last.

"There are things I can do elsewhere." Ryder picked up one of the wooden buckets and a ladle. Still carrying the torch, he left the chamber. Mary waited, wanting to be certain Ryder was really gone before she stripped out of her habit and undergarments.

When his light footfalls receded completely she believed she was safe.

The pile of clothing she intended to wash was forgotten as she took stock of her bruised and battered body. There were large discolorations on her shoulder, upper arm, and hip and it wasn't until she recalled fainting that she understood their origin. The small, tender blisters on her palms and fingertips were easier to explain. She remembered the tight grip she had had on her saddle because Ryder wouldn't give her the reins. Mary explored lower, touching her ribs, her flat belly, the faint outline of her hipbone. Where she had controlled her mount with her inner thighs, the soft skin was burned from the constant rubbing. Touching herself gingerly now, Mary winced.

It would take more than liniment to ease her pain there. Mary dipped her toes in the water, just skimming the surface. Ryder had understated the fact when he'd said it was cold. It was icy. She sat on the stones again and eased herself carefully into the pool until she touched bottom. The water cupped the lower curve of her breasts, and her nipples became almost painfully hard with the frigid temperature.

In the beginning it was difficult to breathe. Mary was tempted to haul herself out, but it would have taken more strength than she could immediately muster. The current tugged on her at the level of her ankles and feet as the underground stream rushed past. The deeper water was even colder than the surface, so Mary made no attempt to dunk herself entirely. That is, until Ryder reappeared. She had soap in one hand and a scrap of linen in the other. She held both aloft as she sank into the water as far as her chin.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. Ryder didn't miss that her tone was as icy as the water.

"I didn't hear any splashing," he explained calmly.

"I wanted to be sure you hadn't drowned." Mary made a sound that was both derisive and impatient.

"You couldn't be that lucky." His pale gray eyes widened fractionally.

"It didn't take you long to recover your sass."

She wasn't certain she heard him correctly.

"What did you say?"

"I said you were sassy." It was a word that had never been applied to Mary before. Tart. Blunt. Sarcastic. Those were descriptions she had heard. Sassy was girlish, a little flirty.

It made her feel gauche, youthful in a way that she'd never been, even when she was young. Embarrassed, Mary lowered her hands and crossed them in front of her breasts under the water. Some of the heat drained from her face. Ryder watched her thoughtfully and revealed nothing. He approached the pool slowly until he could hunker at the edge.

"This seems familiar," he said quietly.

Mary was thinking the same thing. Except for the cold. That would fade in time, she thought. Soon she would be mercifully numb to it and the humiliation of her predicament. Mustering what dignity her situation allowed, she stared back at Ryder and waited for him to move away. When he didn't she said, "You might demonstrate some decency."

"Do you need help?" he asked politely. It seemed the decent thing to do. He watched her lips flatten with exasperation, and one corner of his mouth lifted in an arch smile.

"I've riled you again, haven't I?" Mary didn't know which she disliked more, the fact that he could get a response from her so easily or the fact that he seemed to enjoy it.

"Will you please leave?" she asked.

"You only had to ask." Still watching her from behind a mask of impenetrable calm, Ryder rose slowly. The stiffness that plagued all of Mary's movements was noticeably absent from his. He didn't know it, but that did as much to fire her anger as his careless reply. As soon as his back was turned she pitched the bar of soap at him hard. It caught Ryder squarely between his shoulder blades before it thudded to the ground. He spun around. Whatever retribution he planned in that brief span of time was aborted when he saw Mary's shoulder. She had risen far enough out of the water for him to clearly see the large bruise.

"Did that happen when you fell?" he asked. She followed his gaze to her shoulder, glanced at the blossoming discoloration on her pale skin.

"Unless you beat me while I slept," she said. Mary almost regretted the flippant remark when his eyes pinned her where she stood.

"Yes," she said.

"When I fainted."

"Are there more?" She hesitated.

"I'll drag you out of there and see for myself." Mary raised her arm and showed him the one there.

"There's another on my hip," she said.

When he merely stared at her, trying to gauge her truthfulness, she added, "That's all." Ryder nodded. His saddlebag was lying on the spread of blankets. He dumped the contents and spread them out. A brown bottle of Dr. Horace White's liniment was among the items Florence had packed for him. Ryder set it down beside the pool.

"Compliments of Flo," he said.

"She thought of everything." Mary didn't try to reach it, nor did she thank him for it. As far as she was concerned the general's mother had a great deal to answer for.

"May I have the soap?" she asked. He handed it to her.

"You'll be all right?" She nodded.

"Yes," she said.