a hand snaked out for her, catching her arm, swinging her around. She
tossed back her head and met Jamie's angry eyes. She wrenched free from
his grasp.
For safety's sake, she took a step backward.
'What are you doing?' he demanded.
'Looking for you.'
'I told you not to run around in the dark!'
'But you' -- 'Miss. Stuart, from now on, you're taking orders from me.
And from now on, you listen. And if I hear one more crack out of you
about my being a Yank just like von Heusen, I'll tan your backside until
it's the color of a Comanche. Are we understood?'
'No!' she snapped indignantly.
He took a single step toward her. In the near darkness, his eyes seemed
to glitter with a menacing light.
She decided that she wasn't going to tempt fate any further that
evening.
She didn't think he made idle threats.
She turned and fled.
Jon was standing not far from the camp fire. He had seen her reach
Jamie.
She slowed her pace as she saw him. She smiled pleasantly and wished him
good night. 'Good night, Tess,' he told her.
She crawled into the wagon. Dolly was already softly snoring. Tess
unhooked her shoes. Closing the cover of the wagon, she stripped down to
her chemise and pantalets. She crawled into her bunk, closed her eyes
and made every effort to sleep. Her heart was still pounding, and she
didn't know if it was with vexation or excitement. He wanted her
property, not her person, she reminded herself. Then how could he seem
to insinuate so much that seemed sensual when they talked about dry
land? And then, of course, he could change so quickly. Lose his temper
over simple words when he could tease so long himself. She didn't
understand, but he was occupying more and more of her mind. And more and
more of her heart.
It was light when she awoke. Dolly was already up. Tess quickly slipped
into her dusty brown dress for the second day on the trail. She tied her
shoes and slipped from 115 the wagon. She could smell coffee brewing
already, and something was cooking in a frying pan.
She could hear voices by the fire. Jori and Dolly, she determined. She
started around the wagon then held Still.
Jamie, bare-chested, in only his boots and jeans, was shaving. His
mirror was leaning against the steps at the front of the wagon, his
shaving mug was on the second step, and he was wielding a straight razor
against his cheeks.
Apparently he caught sight of her in the mirror. He nicked himself and
scowled deeply at her. She should have walked by. She could not. She
smiled, enjoying the sight of him so. He had wonderful shoulders, broad
and very bronze. He was nearly as dark as Jori, with powerfully bunched
muscles in his arms and chest, and hard, unyielding ones at his lean
waist. She swallowed suddenly. She'd seen lots of men bare-chested. The
