"He adopted me." Mary realized that all she knew about Ryder she could write on the back of her hand. She stared at him wonderingly.

"I was seven," he told her, offering for the first time without being asked.

"Part of a wagon train crossing the Southwest with my father and mother and my little sister. We were headed for California where my father had a new teaching post. He'd been a professor of mathematics in Cincinnati." Mary recalled that Ryder had studied mathematics at West Point. Her eyes strayed to the books in the basket by the wing chair, treasures, she realized now that had belonged to his family. She recalled the inscriptions written at the front of each book and put names to the parents Ryder was describing. His father was Jackson, his mother Anne.

She could not recall anything with his sister's name.

"We covered half the distance, as far as Saint Louis by a more conventional train," he continued.

"But at that point my parents decided joining a wagon party was more practical and educational, so they signed on." He paused. The hand that gripped Mary's was unconsciously tighter now.

"It was an adventure," he said very low.

"Right until the very end." Compassion touched Mary's eyes and she ignored the press of his fingers over hers.

"The Apache?"

"Yes, Apache. But not what you think. Not the Chiricahua. A band of the Southern Tonto attacked the train before we reached Phoenix. My mother and Molly were killed outright, but they used hot pitch on my father to torture him, stripping his skin away in front of me." Mary blanched. She could not close her eyes for fear the vision would become all too clear. Instead she concentrated on Ryder's face and began to understand what he masked with his expression of determined calm. How could she say she did not want to hear more when he had lived through it?

"I was abducted by the group along with two other boys a little older than me. One of them, Henry Parker, died shortly afterward when he couldn't keep up with the band. The Tonto killed him rather than abandon him to the elements." When he heard Mary suck in her breath, he added, "To them it was a kindness." It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that Henry had been only a child, but who knew that better than Ryder, by his own account an even younger child?

"I spent less than a week at the camp before it was raided by a band of Chiricahua. I saw my chance to escape and I took it. I made certain the Chiricahua got the horses and the other small treasures the Tonto had taken from the wagon train, and I ran after them as they left camp.

They ignored me at first, but I wouldn't turn back so they couldn't."

"They admired your courage." Ryder shook his head.

"It wasn't courage, I was running from the people who had murdered my mother and sister and had tortured my father. Hatred and fear kept me running after the Chiricahua raiders, and when that wasn't enough revenge kept me going."

"It always takes courage to leave," Mary said gently.

"Some people can't face the fear of the unknown; yet it's exactly what you did. No wonder the Chiricahua wanted you."

Her hand slipped from his and she stroked his forearm.

"What happened to the other boy?"

"Tommy O'Neil. I never saw him again. I assume he was assimilated into the tribe in the same manner I was taken into the Chiricahua fold."

"It's hard to know who adopted whom." Ryder's small smile reflected a more pleasant memory.

"Naiche and I have often had the same discussion." An opening in Mary's blanket appeared as she adjusted her position. She didn't seem to notice the split along her thigh, but Ryder did. His eyes skimmed the length of her white leg from hip to ankle. She had the softest skin just behind her knee. He wondered what she would do if he turned her over and kissed her there, if he let his mouth trail up the back of her thigh, if he filled his palms with her lovely little bottom.

"How did you get to West Point?" she asked.

"Or was that your uncle's doing?"

Mary imagined Senator Wilson Stillwell fit into the equation in some fashion.

"He must be your mother's brother. Did he--" Ryder shut her mouth with a kiss. His lips covered hers from corner to corner, teasing a response from her. Mary was breathless when he drew hack, her eyes radiant.

"I won't always let you get away with that."

"But for now?" He was hopeful.

"For now it was an inspired idea." As Ryder bent over her again he fleetingly wondered what had ever called Mary to the Church.

Then her arms came around him and she turned into him, opening her chrysalis and enfolding him in her butterfly wings. There was less time for exploring now. They both knew what they wanted.

Mary's skin was sensitive to the slightest brush of his fingers.

Her nipples stood erect when his mouth only hovered above her breasts.

When he kissed the backs of her knees she thought she would shatter.

Her touch was no less powerful on him. Ryder felt her mouth draw on the skin of his shoulder, then she nipped it with her teeth. She didn't merely mirror the things that had been done to her, she found her own ways to please him. She liked to run her hand along his narrow hip, liked the heat of his skin beneath her palm and the way he drew in his breath when she strayed close to his arousal. Ryder was more conscious of Mary's tenderness than she was. Desire made her insistent, and when he would have been gentle, she was greedy. She helped him this time, guiding his entry and lifting her hips to accommodate his thrust. She whispered his name and he could not refuse her. As Mary abandoned herself to pleasure, Ryder let her set the pace. He watched her savor each subtle sensation, closing her eyes and sipping the air delicately as if too much would overwhelm her. Her body was warm and pliant, a supple wand beneath him. They moved as one, joined, hands clasped. His dark hair slipped forward and shielded his face from the light. His profile was dark, predatory, and yet his touch was adoring. He held himself back as she rode the crest of her climax alone and then he came into her, filling her deeply with his pleasure and his seed. Ryder lay back, replete. It was Mary who turned toward him. She stretched out, her bent knee resting against his thigh, her arm curved under her for support. The air in the chamber never changed from its standard seventy degrees, but it felt cooler now on their sweat-slick bodies. Mary drew up a single blanket to cover them both.

"Are you going to sleep?" she asked, watching him close his eyes.

"Mmmmm."

"I thought the Apache were admired for their stamina." Ryder raised one brow.

"I heard stories at Fort Union," she told him.

"About the scouts."

He still didn't look at her.

"Is that right?" he asked dryly.

Mary ran her knuckle along Ryder's jawline. There was a hint of stubble there. In the morning he would have to set out his razor and shaving cup, a reminder that he was not a smooth-faced Apache at all but a professor's son from Ohio.

"They say a warrior can cover fifty miles in a single day and is so swift he can outrun a horse. A man like that could probably stay awake a little longer."

Now one of Ryder's eyes opened and he gave her a wary look.

"There's stamina and then there's stamina." He closed his eye and settled back, his features relaxing as though the conversation had ended. Mary opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. She watched him a while longer, studying his face in unguarded repose. Finally she placed her head in the crook of his shoulder and an arm across his chest. She slept deeply. Leaving his drink unattended on the mantel, Jay Mac paced the floor in front of the fireplace. Low flames made logs crackle there, keeping the chilly night air at bay. His hands were thrust in the pockets of his jacket, and his head was bent.

"I can't believe there's not some sign of them." Rennie placed a hand over her husband's forearm. It was both a supportive and cautionary gesture. Jay Mac had been saying words to the same effect for over an hour, as if changing the inflection or rearranging the sentence would bring about the reply he wanted. Her father did not mean to be accusing, but Rennie could understand that, after so many repetitions, Jarret might begin to hear it that way. Her husband had been a skilled bounty hunter, tracking down criminals in the Colorado Rockies and east of the Mississippi. He was good at what he did, but it had been eight years since he had earned his living that way. Ryder McKay was challenging Jarret's skills in a manner no wanted man had. No one Jarret had ever hunted understood so well how to hide a trail or mislead the trackers. The trail had been cold more than two weeks, with no hint that it might turn hot again. To make things even more difficult, the territory was unfamiliar to Jarret. He understood the landscape of the Rockies.

The mountains and mesas of southeastern Arizona could have easily been the hills and valleys of the moon.

"By all reports, including my own, he's very good at what he does,"

Jarret said.

"Ryder McKay is not a regular Army scout. He's been used for years for special, sensitive assignments. The other scouts say that if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be, and their words are being borne out. This is coming from men who take great pride in being able to track anyone or anything." He added with a touch of sarcasm, "They weren't recruited by the Army because they're stupid." Moira set her teacup on the table. Her voice, like everyone else's, was hushed. Fort Union's quarters were not so private as they appeared. Voices raised in arguments or excitement could be overheard in the corridor beyond or in the adjoining rooms. Jay Mac and Moira had not reported their abduction to the Army search party that found them. They'd told Lieutenant Davis Rivers and, later, General Gardner that they had wandered away from the main line in search of a better route through the foot hills and had lost their way. They had been chastised for their foolishness, and Jay Mac had had to bear it in silence, making his stiff apologies sound sincere.

"What about that one ...... that Tonto person?" Moira asked Jarret.

"I've heard there's no love lost between him and Mr. McKay."