The only people who cared were the citizens of Wiltshire, and there
weren't really all that many left. Even the sheriff was one of von
Hcusen's men, put into office during one of the shadiest elections
imaginable.
It was light, Tess realized. The daylight had come as they had stood
there, staring at one another. Against the pink of the sky, Lieutenant
Slater suddenly seemed a towering menace. A pulse beat at the base of
his throat as he watched her. His jaw seemed cast into a slight twist,
then locked as if it held back his temper. There was a good ten feet
between them, and still she felt his heat, body heat. Her heart was
beating too quickly, and something warm churned deep within her abdomen
while little touches of mercury seemed to dance along her back. She
needed to break away from him.
She despised his attitude; she couldn't help but spise him for the blue
uniform that reminded her so completely of the war.
He wore it well, his dark, plumed hat pulled low over his eyes, his
shoulders broad in the navy blue cavalry shirt, his legs long, his hips
trim. She had to walk past him. She swallowed hard and forced herself to
smile.
'If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant, I'm sure that you're anxious to ride
as quickly as possible.' She started to walk. The closer she came to him
the harder her heart beat. She was almost past him.
Then his arm snaked out and he caught her elbow. Her heart slammed
against her chest as she looked into his smok~-gray eyes, s'zzzling into
hers beneath the sun. His eyes were still shadowed by the brim of his
hat.
'I am sorry, Miss. Stuart. I'm very sorry.'
She wanted to speak. Her throat was dry. She felt his fingers upon her
as if they burned. She was acutely aware of the warmth and strength of
his body.
She stared at his hand upon her and pulled from his grasp. 'Thank you,
Lieutenant,' she managed to say, then she forgot her dignity and fled.
In an hour they were ready to start out. Lieutenant Slater ordered the
downed and useless wagons burned. He almost ordered her new printing
press burned, but Tess forgot all about a low-toned and well-modulated
voice and dignified behavior and came bursting from her wagon to demand
that the press be carried into something that was still capable of
rolling.
'What in hell is it?' the lieutenant demanded impatiently.
'A press! A printing press! I need it for the Wiltshire Sun!'
'Your uncle's newspaper? But he's--dead, Miss. Stuart.'
'The Wiltshire Sun is not dead, Lieutenant, nor do I intend to let it
die.
I will not take a step without that printing press.'
A spark of silver touched his eyes as they narrowed upon her.
'Don't threaten me, Miss. Stuart.'
'I'm not threatening! I'm telling you what will and will not happen.'
He took a step toward her and spoke very quietly.
'Miss. Stuart, you will move when I say so, ma'am, because I'll set you
