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 damned 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 breasts 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 breasts, 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 carcass 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 breasts 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 buttons 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, assuming she was

alone.

She'd given him a whole damned 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.

Damn him. Just remembering his eyes upon her made her breasts 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, 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