Night sheltered them, but this was not what Ryder wanted for the first time with her.

"I have to take you back to the cavern," he said. His voice was a rough whisper as he struggled for control. His hands were resting on her bottom. He slid them up to the small of her back. She was still leaning toward him, and he could make out the line of her full mouth.

The taste of her was on his tongue as he spoke.

"This is no place for us."

"It's not safe for us?" she asked.

"Something like that."

"Oh." Mary didn't want to move. She felt his absence keenly.

Her breasts were swollen now, the nipples raised; and the ache to be pressed to Ryder's chest again was physical. She removed her hands from his shoulders and, not knowing what to do with them, crossed them in front of her. It was a poor substitute for his arms, but the ache subsided fractionally. She regretted the loss of his hands on her waist. Cold seemed to penetrate her there and she shivered. Ryder adjusted the flannel shirt across her shoulders.

"You never quite get used to the change in temperature in the winter desert."

"I can adjust to that," she said under her breath.

"It's people who blow hot and cold I can't tolerate."

Ryder thought it better that he pretend not to have heard. He did what he could to repair the trail they had disrupted with their scrambling then he urged Mary ahead of him on the flatter ground.

He noticed she covered the terrain with more agility than she had shown earlier in the day. Was she eager or merely determined?

With Mary it was probably a bit of both. A delicious sense of anticipation returned to Ryder, and this time he could embrace it.

Ahead of him he watched Mary's lithe figure clamber effortlessly over rocks and fairly dance along the winding trails. She tantalized him with an occasional glimpse of her thigh as the skirt split with her stride and the beaded fringe swung across her white skin. His eyes followed the sway of her narrow hips and the stretch of her long legs.

Sometimes she turned, spearing him with an over-the-shoulder glance that made him want to abandon common sense and take her standing up against the nearest tree. It was hours before they reached the mouth of the cavern. There had been an ebb and flow to their foreplay, moments when they were merely intent on putting one foot in front of the other followed by an innocent helping hand that led to a lingering touch or a husky murmur of thanks. Mary would have entered the cavern immediately but Ryder caught her, lifted her, and carried her across the threshold. The symbolism was not lost on her. She was still smiling widely when he turned to her after lighting the lantern.

His fingers brushed back the hair at Mary's temple. He watched her intently.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked.

Her smile faded. She looped her arms around his shoulders and stood on tiptoe.

"No," she whispered.

"But I'm hoping you'll show me."

Chapter Nine.

Ryder laid his lips against her forehead, then drew back.

Her mouth was hungry for a kiss but he refused the invitation.

"We'll never make it back if I start kissing you now," he said.

Mary didn't know that she cared all that much. Something of her thoughts showed in the sulky line of her mouth. Watching her, Ryder sighed.

"You make it very tempting." She smiled.

"That's all right, then." Mary gave him her back and said dutifully.

"You may blindfold me now." Ryder touched the bandana at his forehead then let his hand fall away. He raised the lantern so light showered the area where they stood. The fingers of his other hand stroked the back of Mary's neck lightly.

"Not this time," he said quietly.

"Come. I'll show you the way." Mary wasn't entirely certain she wanted this particular gift. It would mean that she wasn't a prisoner any longer, that she would have the route to leave him if she had the will to use it. The trust he was placing in her began to feel more like a burden.

Then she remembered his warnings about finding her way out. Where would she go? She had no concept of the direction of the fort or of the distance she might have to travel. Getting from their interior chamber to the cavern's mouth was only a small part of the journey. It was a little like understanding how a lock worked but not being given the key. Ryder understood her hesitation. His hand slipped from her nape, down her spine, and settled at the small of her back.

"Have you worked it out?" he asked. She nodded, glancing over her shoulder.

"I think so."

"Good." He gave her a small push in the direction they should go.

"I wasn't inviting you to leave me." The secret to finding their chamber was all in knowing what to look for. The signs were there, and they were all the same yet different. A straight line was always used to indicate direction at any juncture in the path, but the line might be only three small stones set along the edge of the route. Sometimes the line was lightly marked on the ceiling of the passageway, at other times it was hidden on the underside of a rock. A circle was used to indicate a wrong turn in the route and a diagonal line meant danger.

Ryder pointed out to Mary that the way to the chamber hundreds of bats called home was indeed marked with a diagonal line.

"How would I have known?" she asked, staring at the faint marking in the arch of the chamber's entrance.

"You wouldn't. And no one else would either. These signs were for Joe Panama and later for me. They're not supposed to mean anything to anyone." Ryder's fingertip traced a light diagonal path across Mary's cheek. When she looked at him questioningly, he said, "Because you're the most dangerous thing in this place right now." Then he took her hand and pulled her along the passageway.

She was out of breath with excitement rather than exertion by the time they reached their chamber. As she took off Ryder's shirt, he placed the lantern near their stone shelf-bed and lighted another one.

"I want to see you," he said. Mary's eyes widened fractionally. She was flattered and a little frightened.

"You're too far away." She realized that once he had released her hand she hadn't moved.

She was still standing near the entrance to the chamber, hovering actually, as if bolting down the passageway was still an option.

"Shy?" he asked. Mary had never been accused of it before. She regarded him narrowly, wondering if he was making fun of her.

"Come here, Mary." She couldn't refuse him, not when he spoke in that gentle, amused voice, not when the tone hinted at an urgency he didn't show in any other way. She responded to the way he held back, as if denial was something to be savored before it was to be satisfied. Mary crossed the chamber floor. She shimmered as she walked, he thought, as if she were moving through a waterfall.

When she stopped in front of him, within arm's reach, the beaded fringe swayed gently. Her forest green eyes were large and luminous, the wide centers of them like polished onyx. Her face was raised to him, and desire had made her watchful and a little wary. As his hand threaded in the silky strands of her hair, his fingers were washed with color.

His thumb brushed her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm, placing her lips lightly against the ball of his hand.

He felt that sweet touch ripple through him like a heat wave. Leaning forward he kissed her closed lids, then his mouth settled over hers. He tasted her lips, learned the shape and texture of their soft undersides, the way his tongue could raise a shiver from her when he touched her just so. Her mouth parted beneath his, her lips pliant and eager.

She explored tentatively with her own tongue, meeting him, teasing in a like manner. Ryder leaned back against the stone shelf. His splayed, outstretched legs captured Mary between them. She allowed herself to be pulled closer and nestled against him. The kiss deepened. There was heat now. Hardness. A sense of demanding that had been missing before. It seemed he was drawing on her air, forcing her to share his.

The intimacy of the kiss stunned her senses. She felt as if she were completely open to him, that she was giving him the right to know her in a way no one had ever done before, that ultimately, and most frighteningly, he would come to know things about her that were a mystery to herself. If he drew on her air he also drew on her heart.

Its steady thrum had quickened, and when his mouth touched the cord in her neck she knew he could feel the wild pulse vibrate against his lips. Her throat arched when his mouth slipped to the base of it. His tongue tasted the hollow and he sipped her skin in the curve. Mary's fingers tangled in his thick hair, stroking, holding him to her. Her own sounds of pleasure rocked her as his hand caressed her breast.

Ryder placed his hands on Mary's waist as he slid off the stone bed. In the same motion he lifted her and set her upon it.

Kneeling at her feet, he removed the soft buckskin moccasins. His palms caressed her skin from ankle to knee, sliding under the leather skirt and parting the fringe. She was warm and taut.