But he didn't dare take an hour. He knew Frank and Jesse James only slightly. He'd met them once in the short time that Cole had ridden with Quantrill, and he'd found them to be reckless, sometimes ruthless kids. He thought it might be the Younger brothers traveling with them, another set of reckless youths.

He didn't think that the James boys were especially cruel or brutal. They were still sane, at least, he thought. Like the Younger brothers. They were probably still sane, if nothing else.

But the other man…

His name was Justin. Malachi knew who he was. Cole had seen him in action early on in the war, and the malice with which the man killed and the pleasure he took from his brutal actions had turned Cole away from Quantrill's gang completely.

But to the most decent bushwhacker out there, Shannon would be quite a tonic to swallow. And she wouldn't keep quiet. She wouldn't be able to do so. He had already heard her ranting and raving.

He didn't have time to rest, not for ten damn minutes.

He paused only to give the horses water, and to douse himself with it, and drink deeply. He chewed on the dried meat he had brought, and swallowed some of the liquor Shannon had packed him. It was good, and it helped to keep the pain in his leg at bay.

It was almost night again when he came upon them at last.

He was still a little distance away when he saw the horses grouped in the trees. There were no cooking fires laid out in the camp; in fact, it was barely a camp at all. The bushwhackers had merely stopped along the road.

Malachi was pretty sure that he'd be able to reason with the men; hell, at least they had obstensibly fought on the same side. But the war had taught him to take nothing for granted, so he dismounted from the bay and tethered her with the black gelding some distance down the stream from the raiders. Then he approached them again in silence, coming close enough this time to see the layout in the camp.

They must have been sure of themselves; very sure. No one was left on guard. Each and every one of the bushwhackers was curled up, sound asleep.

Or maybe they weren't so sound asleep. Men like that learned to sleep differently, with one eye open. If a fly buzzed through that camp, the men would probably be aware of it. He'd be a fool to go sneaking in, no matter how silently he could manage it.

And as he had suspected, Shannon was in trouble.

The Younger brothers were stretched out in front of an oak; the others were all laid out beneath other trees, thirty yards apart, and perhaps fifty yards up the grassy slope from the stream.

Shannon was bound hand and foot, and tied to Justin.

He swore inwardly, thinking she must have fought them tooth and nail, because she seemed to have lost Jesse's protection. Jesse, like many other bushwhackers, despite their savagery, still put Southern womanhood on a pedestal. If she had just kept her mouth closed and acted out the part of the Southern belle…

But she hadn't.

Sweat broke out on Malachi's forehead and his hands went clammy as he watched her. She was pale and smudged with dirt, but even so, her features retained their angelic beauty, and her tangled hair swept around her face like a glorious halo. Where the sun fell upon it her hair glowed like golden fire.

She was tied to Justin—but at least she was decently clad. She seemed to sleep the sleep of the dead, but even in that sleep, it seemed she strained with all her heart against the man holding her prisoner.

He hadn't touched her yet. Justin hadn't touched her, Mal-achi assured himself. But he. meant to do so.

At the periphery of the circle, Malachi inhaled and exhaled deeply, deciding what plan of action to take. He could try shooting them all, but the bushwhackers were damned good shots, and if he didn't kill Justin right away, he was certain that Justin would kill Shannon for the pure pleasure of it

No. This wasn't the time to go in blazing away. He needed to play diplomat.

He stood at the periphery of the camp, his saber and his pistols at his side, but his arms relaxed. "Jesse. Jesse James!" he called out sharply.

They moved as one. As soon as he called out, the five of them were awake, staring at him down the length of their Colts and revolvers.

He lifted his hands. He saw five pairs of eyes look over his gray uniform jacket.

By the tree, Jesse stood.

"Malachi!" Shannon called out. "Malachi!" She struggled to rise. Justin jerked on the rope and clamped his hand hard over her mouth.

Malachi nodded toward Justin, trying to burn a message into Shannon's fool head with the strength of his eyes.

"Hey! It's the fool Reb who was taking on the whole of that Red Legs camp by himself!" One of the Younger brothers called out.

"Malachi. Malachi Slater," Jesse said. He walked forward, wary still, but a smile on his face. "You're Cole Slater's brother, right? Hey, they got a whole pack of wanted posters out on you, did you know that?"

"Yeah, I know it. But thanks for the warning."

"What are you doing here about? Heading south? It might be best if you were to take a hike into Mexico."

"Well," Malachi said, "I can't rightly do that yet, you know. I got to tie up with my brothers somewhere. And the Red Legs have got Cole's wife. That's what was going on when you fellows showed up there today. Those men report to a man named Hayden Fitz, and he wants my brother dead. We Slaters stick together; I can't leave yet."

One of the Younger brothers stood up. "Hey, Captain Slater. I seen Jamie. About two weeks ago. He knows about the posters, and he's making his way south. Thought you ought to know."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. That's real good to hear."

Malachi smiled at the Younger brothers, then turned his eyes on Justin. He strode across the clearing between the trees and lowered himself down on the balls of his feet, staring straight into Justin's eyes.

"I've come for her."

"Well, now, Captain Slater, I'm rightly sorry. She's mine."

Shannon bit his hand. Justin let out a yelp, freeing her mouth, bringing his sore palm to his own mouth.

"Malachi—"

"Shut up, Shannon."

"Malachi—"

"Shut up, Shannon," he said again, smiling with clenched teeth. He stunned her by sending her a smart slap right across the face. She gasped. Tears that she would never shed brightened the blue beauty of her eyes.

"Justin, I don't prowl the countryside for just any woman. This one is mine. We're engaged to be married."

Shannon gasped, and Malachi glared at her.

Justin laughed crudely. "That won't wash, captain. That won't wash one little bit. I know all about this feisty little Yank lover. She hates Rebs. I don't think she even knows the difference between the bushwhackers and the regular army, captain. She just hates Rebs. I thought that I should give her a good taste of Johnny Reb, how about that, captain?"

There was no respect in his tone. There was an underlying hint of violence.

"She'll get a good taste of Reb. She's my fiancee, and I want her back now."

Malachi leaned across Justin with his knife and quickly slit the ropes holding Shannon down. She leaped to her feet, rubbing her wrists, and ran behind him. Malachi stood quickly as Justin leaped to his feet. The men stared at one another.

Malachi reached his hand behind him. "Come here, Shannon. Shannon—darlin'!—get your sweet…soul over here, ya hear?"

He grabbed her hand and jerked her up beside him. "Tell them, darlin'."

"What?" she whispered desperately.

"Tell them that you don't hate all Rebs."

She was silent. He sensed the turmoil in her, even as he breathed in the soft sweet scent of her perfume, still clinging to her despite the dirt that smudged her face.

He was ready to strangle her himself.

"Tell them!"

"I—" She was choking on the words, really choking on them. "I—I don't hate all Rebs."

"She ain't your fiancee!" Frank James said.

"She is!" Malachi insisted, his frustration growing. He swung Shannon around, none too gently, and brought her into his arms. "Darlin'!" he exclaimed, and he pulled her close. He stared into her sky-blue eyes, his own on fire.

Her eyes widened; it seemed that at last that she had discovered her own predicament, and realized that her freedom might well hinge on her ability to act.

"Yes! Yes!" She threw her arms around him. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest and her fingers played with the hair at his nape.

And her lips came full and soft and crushing against his.

There was a curious audience before them, and their very lives were hanging in the balance.

And at that instance, it didn't seem to matter.

He locked his arms around her, setting his hands upon the small of her back and bringing the whole of her body hard against his. His lips parted over hers, and in the breath of a second, he found himself the aggressor, heedless of the men watching. He thrust his tongue deep into the sweet crevice of her mouth, feeling the warmth and fever of her reach out and invade him. He held her tighter and tighter, and raped her mouth with the sheer demand of his own. The tension of it seared into the fullness of his body. Then she brought her hands between them, pressing hard against his chest, and he finally lifted his lips from hers, and stared into her wide, startled and glimmering eyes.

Glimmering…with fury, he thought. He only prayed that she had the sense to keep silent until they were away.

If they did get away.

One of the Younger brothers laughed. "Hot damn, but I believe him. That was one of the most sultry kisses I've ever seen. Set me burning for a bit o' lovin', that's for sure."