When it dawned on her that she was the one prolonging the kiss because she was holding on to him so tightly, she thought of letting go, pulling back, but she didn’t do it. Ending the kiss was the last thing she wanted to do.
But all good things eventually come to an end. Chandos finally released his hold on her, then even went so far as to set her at arm’s length, which caused her to lose her hold on him.
Meeting the intensity of his sky blue eyes, Courtney was bemused. It was a bit late to wonder about her own behavior, but she certainly wondered about his. Unwittingly, she raised her hand and touched her lips.
“Why-why did you do that?”
It was all Chandos could do to keep a little distance between them, yet she had to ask why! Well, what did he expect from a virgin? She asked why? Those soft, ripe breasts burning into his chest. Those silky bare arms clinging to him. Nothing but a thin chemise and petticoat to shield him from her warmth. Why? Good Lord!
“Chandos?” she persisted.
He didn’t know what he might have done just then if he hadn’t caught sight of Leaping Wolf behind her. His friend had apparently heard her scream and had come to help. How much had he seen? Too much, said the knowing grin he flashed at Chandos before he turned to leave.
Chandos gave a deep sigh. “Forget it,” he told her. “It just seemed the best way to shut you up.”
“Oh.”
Damn her, did she have to sound so disappointed? Didn’t she know how close she was to finding herself flat on her back? No, she didn’t know, he reminded himself. She had no idea what she was doing to him.
He stalked to the fire, angrily tossing another piece of wood onto it. “Go back to sleep, lady,” he said, his back to her.
“Where were you?”
“There was a noise that needed investigating. It was nothing. But you should have checked to see if my horse was gone before you jumped to conclusions. Next time, remember that.”
Courtney groaned inwardly. What a complete fool she had made of herself. No wonder he sounded so put out. He must be thinking he was stuck with a hysterical female who would mean nothing but trouble to him.
“It won’t happen again—” Courtney began, falling silent when Chandos rasped out one of the foreign words he often used when he wap upset. He whipped around then and headed for his horse. “Where are you going?”
“As long as I’m wide awake, I’m going to take a bath.” He pulled a towel and bar of soap from his saddlebag.
“Chandos, I—”
“Go to sleep!”
Courtney wrapped herself in her bedroll again, her own temper shooting upward as he stalked to the river. She had only wanted to apologize. He didn’t have to bite her head off. And then her eyes fell on the neat pile of clothes next to her bedroll—her clothes. Hot color flooded her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized… oh, no! She had thrown herself into his arms while she was wearing nothing more than her underthings! How could she?
Courtney didn’t know whether to cry in shame or laugh at the absurd picture she must have presented to Chandos. Well, it was nothing to laugh about. No wonder he had behaved as he had. He was probably more embarrassed than she was, if such a thing was possible.
Courtney sighed and turned over to face the fire and the river beyond. She couldn’t hear Chandos or see him, but she knew he was down there. She wished she had the nerve to bathe in the river as he did, instead of only rinsing off, fully clothed, as she had done earlier. It would probably do wonders for her sore muscles.
She was still wide awake when Chandos returned to camp. She pretended to be asleep, however, afraid that he might not have cooled off enough yet to talk to her. But she watched him through the thick fringe of her lashes, not altogether surprised that she wanted to.
He reminded her of a sleek animal, the way he moved with such lithe grace. There was definitely something predatory about him, not in the habitual sense, but in the way he seemed master of his surroundings, able and certain to overcome any challenge, a very comforting thought.
She followed him with her eyes as he tossed his towel over a shrub to dry and returned the soap to his saddlebag. He then hunkered down by the fire to poke a stick at it. She wondered why he didn’t even glance her way to see if she was asleep or not, but then he did, and she became quite breathless, for he didn’t look away. He was staring at her just as she was staring at him, only he didn’t know she was. Or did he?
What was he thinking as he looked at her? Probably that she was an inconvenience he buld do without. Whatever it was, she was better off not knowing.
When he finally stood up and turned toward his bedroll, she felt almost bereft with the sudden loss of his interest, when her own was still so strong. She even noticed that his back was still wet from his bath, at least in the valley between his shoulder blades, and she had an overwhelming urge to smooth the skin dry with her bare hand.
Oh, God Sakes, Courtney, go to sleep!
Chapter 17
“GOOD morning! The coffee’s ready, and I’ve kept your food warm.”
Chandos groaned at the cheerful sound of her voice. What the hell was she doing up before him? Then he remembered that he’d hardly slept at all last night, thanks to her.
He shot her a level look.
“Do you want to eat now?”
“No!” he barked.
“Well, God sakes, you don’t have to bite my head off!”
“God sakes?” he echoed, then began to laugh. He couldn’t help it, it seemed so funny.
Courtney stared at him in complete wonder. She had never seen him laugh before, never even seen him smile. She was amazed. The rigid lines of his face relaxed, and he was so much more handsome, devastatingly handsome, in fact.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “But I thought it was only Westerners who were fond of getting their point across with as few words as possible.”
Courtney smiled. “I’m afraid my friend Mattie was a bad influence with her ofttimes abbreviated speech, but—”
“ ”Ofttimes‘?“ He cut her short. ”My, you do go from one extreme to the other, don’t you?“ he said, laughing.
Courtney was fast losing her humorous mood. Now he was making fun of her.
“The food, sir,” she reminded him curtly.
“You don’t remember my telling you that I don’t eat in the morning?” he said softly.
“I remember your words precisely. You said you eat light in the morning, not that you don’t eat at all. So I made you two corncakes, no more, no less, a very light breakfast to be sure. But I wish to point out that if you would eat more substantially in the mornings, we might forgo stopping for lunch, which is a waste of good daylight. We would make better time, possibly gaining—”
“If you’d stop running off at the mouth, lady, I’d tell you that we stopped at midday yesterday for your sake, not mine. Without you along, I’d be covering this distance in half the time. But if you think your backside is up to it—”
“Please!” Courtney gasped. “I’m sorry. I only thought… no, obviously I didn’t think at all. And actually… I’m not up to spending any more time in the saddle than we have been, at least not yet.” She blushed. “And I appreciate your considering my—” She faltered, blushing furiously now.
“I’ll take those corncakes,” he said gently.
Courtney rushed to serve him. Once again she had made a fool of herself. And he was so right, she hadn’t even thought of her sore body and what a few extra hours in the saddle each day might do to it. As it was, she wasn’t suffering nearly as badly as Mattie had predicted, but that was due entirely to Chandos’s thoughtfulness, she realized.
When she handed Chandos his coffee, she asked, “When will we be into Indian Territory?”
Casually, he said “About two hours before we made camp last night.”
“Oh!” she gasped. “Already?”
It certainly didn’t look any different than the Kansas soil they had left behind. What had she expected, Indian villages? A
s far as the eye could see there wasn’t another living soul, just flat terrain, the only trees those along the riverbanks. Yet this land had been allotted to the Indians and, they were there, somewhere.
“Don’t worry, lady.”
She glanced back at him with a nervous smile. Was her fear so obvious?
“Won’t you call me Courtney?” she asked suddenly.
“That’s your civilized name. It has nothing to do with out here.”
She felt chagrined again. “I suppose Chandos isn’t your real name, then?”
“No.” She took it for granted that he would say no more, as usual, but this time he surprised her. “It’s the name my sister used to call me, before she could pronounce my name.”
What name could possibly sound like Chandos, Courtney wondered, simultaneously glad to know something about him. So he had a sister?
Then he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her.
“It’s the name I’ll use until I’ve finished what I must do so my sister can stop crying and sleep in peace.”
Courtney went strangely cold all of a sudden. “That is quite cryptic. I don’t suppose you would care to explain what it means?”
He seemed to shake himself. His eyes, so brightly blue, held her entranced for a long moment before he said, “You wouldn’t want to know.”
She wanted to say that she did, in fact, want to know—not just know about what he’d said, but know everything about him. But she held her tongue.
She left him to finish his coffee, and tackled the job of saddling her horse. She knew it would take her twice as long as it took Chandos.
When she fetched her bedroll to secure it behind the saddle, she said, “Does the mare have a name, Chandos?”
He was getting ready to shave and didn’t glance at her. “No.”
“Could I?”
“Call her whatever you like, cateyes.”
Courtney savored the irony of that as she hurried back to the horse. Call it whatever she liked—just as he called her whatever he liked? He knew she didn’t like being called “lady,” but “cateyes”? Well, she preferred it to “lady.” And the way he said it, why, it sounded somehow more intimate even than her own name.
She moved to the fire to clean up and put away the utensils. As she worked, she found herself peeking again at Chandos while he shaved. His back was to her, and her eyes moved slowly, caressingly, over the long, hard length of him.
It was a very nice body, as male bodies went. God sakes, Courtney, that’s putting it mildly. Superb was more like it. She imagined a sculptor might carve Chandos just as he was if he wanted an enviable creation.
As she gathered up the cooking utensils to take them down to the river, Courtney sighed. She had finally admitted the truth to herself, and she wasn’t really surprised. She admired Chandos’s body.
“ ”Desire‘ would be a better word than “admire,” “ she mumbled to herself as she hurried down the slope.
She blushed. Was it true? Was that why she felt so funny when she looked at him, or when he touched her, and especially when he kissed her? What, she asked herself, did she really know about desire? Thanks to Mattie, who had often been explicit about her feelings for her husband, Courtney knew more than she might have.
“I can’t keep my hands off him,” Mattie would say, and Courtney realized she might say the same about her feelings for Chandos. The urge to touch him was certainly there, to trail her fingers over that firm, tight skin, to explore what was unknown.
How was she supposed to push aside these feelings? She couldn’t avoid Chandos. On the other hand, he’d shown very little interest in her. She knew he didn’t desire her as a woman, not at all. Why, he didn’t even like her. That left Courtney alone with her imaginings.
Last night’s kiss kept floating to the top of her mind. She was no novice to kissing: kisses from her beaus in Rockley, Reed’s possessive kisses. But she couldn’t remember ever enjoying a kiss so much, and she wondered intensely what it would be like to be kissed by Chandos if he really meant to kiss her. Shockingly, she actually found herself wondering how this man would make love. Primitively? Savagely, as he lived? Or would he be gentle? Maybe a little of both?
“How much washing does one pan need?”
Courtney started and dropped the pan in the water, then had to leap after it as the current caught it. She swung around, pan in hand, ready to upbraid Chandos for sneaking up on her like that, but her eyes lit on those incredibly sensual lips and she groaned instead and quickly looked away.
“I’m afraid I was—daydreaming,” she offered guiltily, praying he wouldn’t guess what she’d been thinking about.
“Save it for when we ride, will you? It’s past time we lit out.”
He walked away, leaving her fuming over his curtness. That was reality, she told herself harshly. He was a gunman, ruthless, hard, savage. Utterly disagreeable. He was no dream-lover.
Chapter 18
THE difference became noticeable when they left off following the meandering Arkansas River. Gone were the currents of cool air that flowed with the river, so helpful in blowing away annoying insects. Gone too was the shade of trees. But the river was moving southeast now, and Chandos took them southwest, telling her that they would meet up with the Arkansas again later that day, where it snaked sharply westward again. They would cross a fork in the river that evening.
Courtney suffered with the heat. It was the first week in September, but there was no falling off of temperature to announce the end of summer. It was extremely humid. Sweat poured from her temples and brow, down her back and underarms, between her breasts, soaking her thick skirt between her legs. She lost so much moisture, in fact, that Chandos added salt to her drinking water, much to her annoyance.
They reached the sandstone hills region by late afternoon, an area of low, flat hills extending across the eastern part of Indian Territory until it eventually blended in with the Arbuckle Mountains on the southern border. Rising four hundred feet in some areas, the hills were heavily forested with blackjack and oak, and rich in game.
While Courtney was wringing the water out of her skirt from their second river crossing, Chandos told her he was going out after their dinner. He expected camp to be set up by the time he returned. Courtney got out no more than two words of protest before he was gone. She sat down then and stared angrily after his departing figure.
It was a test. She knew it and resented it. But she did it, seeing to her pinto and Nelly, gathering wood as she had seen Chandos do. Some of it wasn’t quite dry, and the fire smoked terribly. She got the beans started—oh, how many cans of beans were in her supply sack— and decided she would never want to see another bean when this trip was over. She even made some sourdough bread.
She was extremely proud of herself when she was done. It had taken only a little over an hour, and most of that time had been devoted to the horses. It was only when she sat down to await Chandos’s return that she remembered her wet skirt, realizing this would be a good time to wash it and her underclothes. And as long as Chandos wasn’t in camp, she could take a nice, long bath.
Her spirits soared instantly, and she was no longer annoyed with Chandos for leaving her alone. The light was still good, with a dusky pink sky overhead, and she had her Colt revolver, even if she was clumsy with it.
She quickly gathered soap and towel and a change of clothes. The bank was rocky with stones and boulders. One boulder had fortuitously fallen right in the path of the current, which stemmed the worst of it, giving her a few square feet of gentle water to bathe in.
She sat in the shallows and washed her clothes first, tossing them up onto the rocks. Next she washed her matted hair, and then her underclothes, which she refused to remove. She soaped them down on her body. She scrubbed her body with a vengeance, getting rid of dust and sweat. The water was invigoratingly cold, delightful after the sweltering ride. She was happy there in her sheltered place. Unable to see over the rocks, she felt delightfull
y isolated.
The sky was just beginning to streak with vivid red and violet when she came out of the water to gather her wet clothes. She got no farther than the water’s edge. Four horses were spread out along the bank, blocking her way back to camp. Four horses and four riders.
They weren’t Indians. That was Courtney’s first thought. But that didn’t stop alarm bells from going off in her head. They sat there, all four staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl. The men were wet from the legs down, which meant that they had recently crossed the water. If only she had seen them crossing, or heard them approach.
“Where’s your man?”
The one who spoke was a study in browns, hair and eyes, jacket, pants, boots, hat, even his shirt was light brown. He was young, in his late twenties, she guessed. They were all young, and she recalled the adage that all gunmen die young. These were gunmen. They had that look she had come to recognize, the look that said they made their own rules and wore guns to enforce those rules.
“I asked you a question.” The man’s voice was raspy.
Courtney hadn’t moved an inch. She couldn’t. She was frozen. But she had to get hold of herself.
“My escort will return any moment now.”
Two of them laughed. Why? The one in brown didn’t laugh. His face remained impassive.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Where is he?” he repeated.
“He went hunting.”
“How long?”
“Over an hour.”
“Ain’t heard no shots, Dare,” said a red-haired youth. “Looks like we got a long wait.”
“That suits me just fine,” said a huge, black-haired fellow with a scraggly beard. “ ”Cause I can think of a way to make the time pass real quick.“
There was more laughter. “There’ll be none of that, not now anyway,” said the brown-clad man. “Bring her up to their camp, Romero,” he ordered softly.
The man who dismounted and approached her looked as Mexican as his name sounded, except that he had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. He was only a few inches over her height, but his body was wiry and encased entirely in black, with silver conchas shining bloodred in the sunset. His face was swarthy and as darkly serious as Chandos’s usually was. This one was dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than the others.
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