"Jane won't be but a moment. I told her to find that bottle of old brandy you bought from — oh, I say, I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" Vanessa asked.

Jocelyn was blushing profusely, but managed to shake her head as she stepped away from Colt. "No, not at all," she got out, nearly choking on the words.

She couldn't believe she had been about to confess her attraction for him. That simply wasn't the way things were done, especially when the second party's feelings were not in the least bit clear. Good Lord, how mortifying if she had done so and he hadn't re-sponded, or worse, had replied something to the ef-fect that it was her problem, not his. It was her problem, but for once she couldn't plunge right ahead in solving it.

"It's as well you came back so soon, Vana, since I was just getting around to asking Colt why he wanted us to avoid that town yesterday. The answer was of particular interest to you, wasn't it?"

"Indeed," Vanessa replied, though with reluc-tance.

It was all well and good to complain to Jocelyn about their guide's apparent spitefulness, Vanessa thought, but quite another thing to broach the subject with him, especially when he looked anything but friendly. In fact, the way he was looking at Jocelyn while her attention wasn't on him. Good Lord, what had happened while she was gone? His eyes were fairly smoldering with passion, but what kind of passion?

He didn't seem to have followed the conversation, so intent was his concentration on Jocelyn, so Vanessa prompted, "Was there a reason, ah — Colt?"

His gaze swung to her with what could only be described as impatience, but the fires were banked now, and then he was looking at the duchess again, almost as if he couldn't seem to help himself. "I kept you out of Benson because your best protection is out in the open, where you can see your enemy coming. In a town, you don't know who the hell to watch out for since you don't even know what this Englishman looks like, or his men. Out here, anyone who approaches is suspect. It's the simplest precaution there is, Duchess, keeping to yourself."

There was a double meaning there. Even Vanessa caught it. Jocelyn chose to ignore it entirely.

"There, you see, Vana, a perfectly good reason. And what's more, Longnose has been temporarily misled thanks to the detour Colt insisted on this morning. We couldn't be in more capable hands, wouldn't you agree?"

Vanessa nodded, but her attention was still on Colt, watching for his reaction. She couldn't fault Jocelyn's ageold tactics. She had let the man know his com-pany was desired, had been shyly avoiding his gaze as if she didn't dare look at him for fear her feelings would be blatantly clear, and now was using flattery. But none of it seemed to be working on the man, at least not as one would expect. If anything, the more agreeable Jocelyn was, the more disturbed he seemed.

Did he grasp the situation and just want no part of it? Or were his the actions of a man who had decided he couldn't have what he wanted? Now there was a thought, but one Vanessa couldn't very well pursue.

She wondered if she ought to mention it to Jocelyn. No, best let the girl proceed in her own way.

Besides, the answer couldn't be had without direct question-ing, and Jocelyn might be straightforward on most subjects, but Vanessa hoped she had sense enough not to broach this one. The embarrassment that could arise didn't bear thinking of.

Neither woman could have known that Colt would have welcomed a little straightforwardness at this point, for he still didn't understand the duchess's mo-tivations in the least. That she could want him, know-ing what he was, was the last thing that might occur to him.

But his wanting her was getting out of hand, and being this near to her again was just making it worse. It had been a bad mistake to come in here, even with his anger to sustain him. With the anger gone now, he needed to get the hell away and fast.

He did just that the moment the tent flap opened again with the servant bearing the brandy on a silver tray. "Ladies," was all he said in parting before stalking toward the exit. But he did first snatch the bottle from the startled maid. At least there was something of Jocelyn's that he could have without guilt, and he damn well needed it tonight.

Chapter Eighteen

Fox the next several days Jocelyn saw nothing of Colt, though she had assurances from others that he hadn't deserted them. He was simply gone before she awoke, and did not return until after she had retired for the night. It was not unreasonable that she should worry about him during these long absences as they moved through what was considered the very heart of Apache country, but it was unusual. There had been much to worry about these past three years, but not since Edward had she focused her concern on one man in particular.

So when Colt showed up one afternoon to ride at the head of the cavalcade, Jocelyn was not the only one who felt there must be a specific reason for it. That he offered no explanation was typical of him.

Getting voluntary information out of Colt Thunder was harder than finding water in this arid region. And if she hadn't already guessed that her men had formed a distinct dislike for him, the fact that not one of them would appease his curiosity by questioning him proved it.

She could have done so herself. It would only have been a matter of raising her voice a little since she was riding up with the driver of her coach while Vanessa napped inside. She thought about it for about two seconds. But she had caught a glimpse of his face when he rode up, and quite frankly, he had never looked more unapproachable.

She couldn't help feeling a certain apprehension now, an anticipation of something about to happen, especially as she stared at the rigid set of Colt's back as he continued to lead them forward. It was still another half hour, however, before the tense waiting came to an end.

There was what could only in very generous terms be described as a hill in the near distance, and on top of the tiny mound sat six mounted riders. Jocelyn's front guards drew up the moment the small group was sighted, but when Colt continued on, she indicated they should follow. The strangers weren't identifiable yet, nor were they doing anything except sitting there watching the cavalcade's approach. If it was Longnose. well, Jocelyn almost wished it was. To bor-row one of the region's more colorful phrases, this was one "showdown" long overdue.

But no such luck. As they drew nearer the hill, it became clear that they were to be treated to their first sight of some genuine American Indians, but closer still gave an indication that these were not of the tame variety, not with so many cartridge belts in evidence, some used merely as belts, some crossed as bandoliers. Still, there was nothing to be truly alarmed about, not with so few of them. Her guard alone dou-bled their number. Even so, Jocelyn found herself holding her breath as the Indians began to descend their hill, slowly and in single file, and in a direction that would put them directly in the path the cavalcade now moved.

Colt reined in this time, and everyone behind him immediately followed suit. After a moment, Sir Par-ker moved up beside him and they shared a few words; then Colt rode forward to speak with the In-dians.

Pearson, who was driving the lead coach today, leaned toward Jocelyn to whisper, "I thought these blokes were supposed t' be skilled archers."

She could see what prompted the remark, since not a bow or an arrow was in sight. "These are modern times, Mr. Pearson. It's not surprising they've discovered the rifle to be a more handy weapon for killing— game."

"Game's a mite scarce in this area. Would they be wantin' some food or such, do you think?"

"That, or perhaps a toll for crossing their land," she replied with a good deal of relief. "Yes, that would seem logical, wouldn't it? What other reason could they. have.?"

Her attention centered immediately on Colt as he reached the Indians, who had lined up to face him.

Some words were exchanged, but the distance was too far for Jocelyn to hear any of them, and she could only wonder about the excessive use of hand motions between Colt and the Indian leader to emphasize whatever they were discussing.

Fortunately, it didn't take long. Colt yanked his horse about, and Jocelyn had already asked for assistance and was on the ground when he reached her. Unfortunately, his expression was so grim she was back to holding her breath again, at least until he had dismounted, took her arm, and led her a few feet away from the others.

"They want your stallion," he said without pre-amble.

Equally to the point, Jocelyn replied, "Sir George is not for sale, at any price."

"I didn't say they want to buy him, Duchess."


"But. you don't mean they're demanding Sir George in payment to let us cross this way?"

"No, I don't. TheyVe got no business in this area themselves. Those are renegade Apaches."

"As in the kind that 'raid across the border,' this side of the border?"

The hesitant way she said that almost made him grin. "Now you got the picture."

She sensed his condescension and her chin came up. "And if I don't choose to give them Sir George?"

"They don't usually ask before they take," he re-plied patiently. "They spotted us yesterday and could've made the attempt to steal the stallion last night. I think they've taken you folks for Easterners, the reason for this brazenness on their part. They're pretty confident you're scared out of your minds right about now and will give up the horse without a hitch."