She felt she was being watched. She looked over Monahan's shoulder and there was Slater, still mounted on his huge horse, overseeing his men as they broke their formation to make camp. He tipped his hat to her, and she felt something run hot and liquid inside her. He was watching her in Monahan's arms, and very likely acknowledging a feminine ability to draw others to handle her own responsibilities.

Her temper started to soar.

Monahah stepped back, and his wide baby blue eyes were full of gentleness and kindness and maybe just a bit of adoration.

He was a wonderful man, just like a great big s.h.a.ggy bear. The devil to Lieutenant Slater. If his men wanted to behave like gentlemen, she had no intention of stopping them.

"Miss. Stuart, Lieutenant Slater rode this far because we know this place. If you go just past that ridge yonder, there's the prettiest little brook. It's mostly surrounded by dry rock, but the water runs pure and clean. There's an area up there far from where we'll water the horses. You can take a walk up there and find all the privacy you might 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 gra.s.s 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 d.a.m.ned 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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 carca.s.s 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 b.u.t.tons 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, a.s.suming she was alone.

She'd given him a whole d.a.m.ned 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.

d.a.m.n him. Just remembering his eyes upon her made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 the prettiest little brook around, but you be careful from here on out, you hear?

You've become pretty important to all of us."

"Thank you, that's very kind," she murmured, but she knew that she was blushing again. Everyone knew what had happened.

But they didn't really know. They didn't know what it had felt like when his eyes had touched her naked flesh. "Rations aren't much, ma'am, but one of the boys brought in a few trout. May I fix you a plate and bring you some coffee?" Monaban asked her.

"Please," she agreed.

"That would be very nice." Monaban brought her a plate of food, the other young man brought her coffee. She thanked them both. Then, as she ate, it seemed that every man in the company came by to see how she was, if she would like anything, if she needed anything, anything at all, for the night.

She thanked them all, and when they left, and the darkness fell, and the camp became silent, she smiled. They were Yanks, but a good group of them. Maybe there was hope. She believed again. There were von Heusens in the world, but there were others, too, good people. She just had to keep fighting. She had to hold on to the ranch and she had to keep the Wiltshire newspaper going.

"Miss. Stuart."

She started, feeling every nerve within her body come alive. She knew the voice. Knew the deep tone, low and husky and somehow capable of slipping beneath her skin. It was a sensual, s.e.xy voice, and it awakened things in her she was certain had died beneath the rifle fire of the last years of the war, She inhaled quickly. If she was silent, he might just walk away. He might believe that she slept and just walk away.

But he wouldn't. He knew she was awake. She sensed it, and she resented him for his easy knowledge of her.

"Yes?" she asked crisply.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were all right."

"I'm fine, Lieutenant."

"Is there anything you need?"

"I want you to believe me, Lieutenant. And you're not offering me that."

He was silent. She hoped he would turn away, but she sensed he was smiling.

"You didn't thank me. For saving your life."

"Ah, yes. Thank you for saving my life." She found herself crawling the length of the bunk, then defying him over the rear edge of the wagon.

"Lieutenant?"

"yes?"

"Come closer, please."

He took a step nearer. Tess let her hand fly across his cheek. He instantly caught her wrist, and she was glad of the surprised and furious fire in his eyes as they caught hers. She kept smiling, even if his fingers did seem to be a vise around her, even if the air seemed charged with electricity. Even if she was just a little bit afraid that he was going to drag her out of the wagon and down beneath him into the dirt.

"I do thank you for saving my life, Lieutenant. But that was for the ungentlemanly way in which you did so."

She pulled on her hand. He didn't let go. His eyes glittered silver in the moonlight.

I'll try to remember, Miss. Stuart, that you are most particular about the way a man goes about saving your life," he told her.

"You know exactly what I'm saying."

"I never meant to give you offense."

"Never?"

"I do swear so, Miss. Stuart. I kept my presence quiet because you were as bare as a baby before I realized it. And then, well, I do admit, I was caught rather speechless."

"You weren't speechless on the rock!"

He smiled slowly.

"No."

"Oh, you ... Yank!"

She tugged on her wrist again. He didn't release her at first, then his fingers slowly unwound. He was smiling, she realized. And his eyes fell over her again, and she felt as if he was burning the sight of her into his memory. A flame shot high within her, and she didn't know if she was horrified-or fascinated.

"Good night, Miss. Stuart," he said softly. Then he did walk away. She didn't move, and after a moment he turned back.

"Miss. Stuart?"

"What?"

He hesitated.

"You're a very beautiful woman. Very beautiful."

He didn't wait for an answer. He walked away and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Three.

Two days later, they reached the fort.

It was, Tess thought, a typical military fort in Indian country. The walls of the stockade were high, maybe twenty-five feet high, and built of dark st.u.r.dy logs. She heard the sound of a bugle while they were still some distance from the fort, then the huge wooden gate swung open to allow their party to enter. Looking up as they went into the compound, Tess saw armed guards in their cavalry blue lined up on all the catwalks and staring down at them.