She felt she was being watched. She looked over Monahan's shoulder and
there was Slater, still mounted on his huge horse, overseeing his men as
they broke their formation to make camp. He tipped his hat to her, and
she felt something run hot and liquid inside her. He was watching her in
Monahan's arms, and very likely acknowledging a feminine ability to draw
others to handle her own responsibilities.
Her temper started to soar.
Monahah stepped back, and his wide baby blue eyes were full of
gentleness and kindness and maybe just a bit of adoration.
He was a wonderful man, just like a great big shaggy bear. The devil to
Lieutenant Slater. If his men wanted to behave like gentlemen, she had
no intention of stopping them.
'Miss. Stuart, Lieutenant Slater rode this far because we know this
place. If you go just past that ridge yonder, there's the prettiest
little brook. It's mostly surrounded by dry rock, but the water runs
pure and clean. There's an area up there far from where we'll water the
horses. You can take a walk up there and find all the privacy you might
desire.' 'Thank you again, Sergeant,' Tess said.
'I would dearly love a bath.
I'll take you up on your suggestion.' She hurried to the back of the
wagon and found clean clothing, a bar of soap and a towel. When she
emerged again, Sergeant Monahah was unharnessing the mules. He pointed
toward the ridge.
She could see that some of the soldiers were headed in the other
direction.
She smiled again and hurried toward the ridge. She was puffing slightly
when she walked over it, but then she gasped with delight.
The brook was surrounded by boulders and high rocks, but there were
little tufts of grass growing between the rocks, and a few wildflowers
had managed to eke out an existence there. The evening was pink and gold
and very beautiful, and she could hear the sound of the water as it ran.
It looked so cool and delicious after the dry dust of the day.
She clambered down the rocks to a broad ledge, dropped her towel and
soap and clothing and sat down, hurriedly untying her shoes. Staring at
the clean, fresh water, she pulled her blouse from her skirt and quickly
shed it, then her skirt and shift and pantalcts and hose. She stepped
down the rock, so entranced by the water that she never once realized
she wasn't alone.
Barefoot and bare-chested, his cavalry trousers rolled above his ankles,
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
