hands.
'Give Jamie time,' he told her.
The little woman looked up at Jon.
'Oh, Jon! I didn't mean you.'
'I know,' he said, grinning.
'I'm only half savage and heathen and barbarian.'
She flushed brilliantly.
'Jon ...'
'It's all right, Clara. Heaven help us, if the Sioux Nation went to war
now, I'm not at all sure where I would be at times.' He raised his
voice.
'Every single one of you has, at one time or another, seen some savage
injustice done to the Indians!. You've been with commanders who think
nothing of the murder of women and infants! How in hell can you possibly
doubt this story!'
There were murmurs, then the crowd began to clear. Clara started to cry
softly.
'I'll take her home,' Jon told Jamie.
Jamie nodded. He and Tess watched as Jon escorted her through the
alehouse.
'Well, damn it, it's just exactly what you wanted, isn't it?'
He was a far different man from the one who had kissed her with such
staggering heat. She stiffened, wishing she could wash the taste of his
lips from her own, trying to wipe the taste away with the back of her
hand.
'What I wanted!
No! I never wanted to be called' any of those things, Lieutenant, and I
certainly never wanted to see an old woman in pain, nor did I ever
particularly want to be threatened with being tarred and feathered!'
'You wanted me to go to war with your von Heusen.'
'All right, yes! I wanted someone else to stand up against him.'
She was backed against the pillar still. Her hands slipped behind her to
reach for it for support. He turned on her, coming closer, leaning his
hands upon the beam and bringing his face very close to hers. She was
trapped by his arms, by the prison of his body.
'And now,' he said softly, 'it's my battle.'
'You're the damned cavalry, aren't you? You spent time enough telling me
that the day that you dragged me into the dirt!'
'I dragged you into the dirt! Why, you little hellion! You're the one
who came after me like a bat out of hell!'
It was there again, that feeling of something entirely combustible
between them, of static charging the air, of 77 lightning on a still
night. She had to fight back, and quickly and hard, or she would lose
everything.
'I was frightened out of my wits,' she retorted, 'not that you probably
weren't worthy of everything I did!'
'Oh? Is that a fact? And have you taken to judging me, Miss. Stuart?'
'Why the hell not? You're determined to judge me.' They were silent for
a moment, and in that moment, they both heard a throat being cleared.
