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, sexy 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 sturdy 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.
She was grateful to have reached the fort. She was driving her mules,
swearing to them beneath her breath, and wondering if the calluses would
ever leave her fingers. She'd gotten them right through Uncle Joe's
heavy leather gloves.
She was sweaty, salty and sticky, and her hair was coming loose from the
neat braid she'd twisted at her nape. She had said that she could
manage--and Lieutenant Slater had let her do just that.
His men had continued to be very kind, and she had continued to smile
and be as gracious as she could in return. He had kept his distance
since he had left her that night, but she had felt his eyes on her.
Always. his eyes were on her. When she drove the wagon, she would
suddenly feel a warmth, and she would look around to discover that he
was no longer at the head of the column, but had ridden back and was
watching her. And at night, when. one of the men would bring her coffee
or food, he would stare across the distance of the camp fire. And by
night she heard footsteps, and she wondered if he wasn't walking by to
determine if she was sleeping. If she was safe.
Or did he walk by to discover if she might still be awake?
He infuriated her, but she was also glad, and she realized that she felt
safe. Not because she was surrounded by thirty or so cavalry men, but
because he was walking by, because he was near.
But now they had come to the fort. He would turn her over to his
commander and disappear from her life.
Someone would be assigned to see her to Wiltshire, and she need never
see him again. Never feel his eyes again, the touch of smoke gray and
insinuation that warmed everything within her and seemed to caress her
as if he saw her again as he had by the brook.
They were in front of the command post. Tess pulled hard on the reins,
dropped them and started to leap from the driver's seat. She smiled, for
Jon Red Feather was there to help her.
She had grown to like the man very much: his striking, sturdy
appearance, his silence and his carefully chosen words. And she sensed
that he believed her when others might not.
He set her upon the ground. She thanked him then looked at all the
confusion around her. Wives, children and perhaps lovers had spilled
from the various buildings in the compound to greet the returning men.
Monahah had called out an order dismissing them all, and the band was
quickly breaking up.
Lieutenant Slater was striding up the steps to the broad porch that
encircled the command post, saluting the tall, gray-haired man who
awaited him. Jon indicated the steps.
"Miss. Stuart, I believe the colonel will want a statement from you as
soon as possible. I'll see to your accommodations for the evening and
return shortly."
He walked her to the porch. Apparently Slater had already explained
something about her, for the colonel was quick to offer her a hand and