"I

don't argue like this in front of others, Miss. Stuart."

" There is no argument!" she snapped.

"No, there isn't. I'll make it simple. Wherever I choose to go is my own

business, Miss. Stuart. You are not my keeper. And as to payment, hell,

yes.

Tomorrow we'll go into town and you'll turn over half interest in this

place to me."

She gasped aloud, stunned.

"Jamie, she doesn't understand what you're doing," Jon said, ignoring

the rising tensions and reaching for a roll himself.

"If you just explained" -- "Explained! Hell, I feel as if I'm up before

the judge and jury!"

"Judge and jury! I really don't give a damn what you do with your time,

but"

"You begged me to come here, Tess."

"Begged!"

"Begged!"

"Oh!" she cried. Then she wound her fingers tightly together.

"I don't argue in public either, Lieutenant!" she snapped. She was

shaking, she realized. She'd been so damned amazed and grateful to see

him, but she'd also been scared, and now she was furious and shaking and

she wasn't even sure what she did want. She turned, having no taste left

for dinner.

Angrily she began to stride for the door. "Tess!" He was on his feet,

calling to her. He really expected her to stop because he had commanded

her to. She didn't stop, she didn't turn, she didn't even pause. She

sailed straight for the front door. She would go to the carriage house

to make sure the fire von Heusen's men had started had been stamped out.

"Jamie, give her a minute," Dolly suggested.

"The hell I will!" Jamie snapped.

Before Tess heard the door slam in her wake, she thought she heard

Jamie's chair hit the floor as he pushed it over.

She started running toward the carriage house, anxious to reach it

before he could see her. She was at the side door when she heard the

front door to the house slam. She slipped into the eaniage house. She

inhaled and exhaled, but couldn't smell any smoke. All she could smell

was the fresh scent of the alfalfa hay that was being stored behind the

chaise.

She fumbled in the darkness to light the gas lamp by the door. When the

glow filled the carriage house, she went to check the wagon and the

printing press. She crawled into the wagon and gave a soft sigh of

relief as she saw that the printing press was fine. She sank down on one

of the bunks. "Tess!

Where are you!"

Jamie was obviously angry. She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore

him.

She stepped from the wagon and went to the buckboard. No flames had

lapped against it. The chaise, too, seemed untouched. Walking around,

she discovered a half burned bale of hay. It had been dragged into the

center of the room and lit. Von Heusen had meant it to be a slow fire.

He had really meant to be long gone when the place burned.

She moved away from the hay and from the faint, acrid smell of fire that

remained.

"Tess!"

He was still calling her, like a drill sergeant. With a sigh she

determined that she would have to open the door, but she hesitated with

her hand upon it. Where had he been? He'd been gone for hours. Had he

really enjoyed the saloon so much? What part of the saloon?

And why was she torturing herself so thoroughly over him? She couldn't

change the man.

The before twist the With a back.

was hat less, his shirt open at the neck, his hands on his hips, his

sandy hair tousled casually over a brow, but his manner anything but

casual.

"Why didn't you answer me?" he demanded. "Because I didn't want to speak

to you."

"It didn't occur to you that I might have been worried?"

"I could have been in and out of the carriage house all evening, and you

wouldn't have known. What, I'm supposed to be on a ball and chain if

you're around? But if you're not, it doesn't matter?"

She saw his jaw twist and a pulse tick hard against his throat.

"That's about it, yes. Think you can live with the niles?"

"No!"

"Then I'm leaving."

"what?"

"You heard me."

"But--'," In astonishment she stared at him. She inhaled sharply. She

couldn't let him leave her. She couldn't!

But she thought he wouldn't go. He just wanted to see her beg.

"Leave," she told him. She'd call his bluff, she determined.

He turned and reached for the door. She thought quickly and desperately,

then said,

"I thought you liked the property.

And the house, and the horses. And I thought you wanted half of

everything.

If you want it, you have to earn it."

He swung around. A smile curled his lip as he leaned against the door.

"You just can't say please, can you?"

"It isn't that! My God, this isn't fair! You want thousands of dollars

worth of property" -- "If yon Heusen has his way, there won't be any

property."

"But you're unfair!"

"Because I went to the saloon?"

"Because you weren't here!"

"But I was here. I was here exactly when you needed me." He walked

toward her. She took a step back and tripped over the pile of half

burned hay. He kept coming, and she reached out a hand, expecting he

would help her up. He didn't.

He dropped down, half on top of her and half beside her, his arms braced

over her chest so that she couldn't move.

Gray eyes looked into hers. He'd had a shave in town, she thought.

HIS cheeks were clean, and he smelled slightly of a cologne. He smelled

good all over, like good clean soap and like a man. He'd had a bath,

too, she realized, and her temper soared again. He had stayed at the

saloon. He'd had a drink and a bath and maybe a meal and. Maybe a woman.

"Get off of me, Yank!" she said angrily. The smoke left his eyes. He

stared at her with a gaze of cold steel. He leaned closer. So close that

their faces nearly touched. The heat of his body was all around her, and

she forgot everything, afraid, excited, wanting to ere ape him and run.

And wanting to know more of him.

"You're hurting me," she began.

"No, I'm not," he corrected her flatly.

"And I'm not moving a hair, because I really want your attention. Now

listen. I can go, or I can stay. The choice is yours. But if I stay, we

do things my way. I'll try to explain. I'm not desperate for land,

cattle, a house or money. I've done all right myself, thanks, despite

the war, despite everything. But tomorrow, you're going to turn over

half of this place to me on legal papers.

That way you may have a chance of keeping it. Pay attention. You're a

smart girl, Tess. Von Heusen thought that all he had to do was kill you

and your uncle and he could have this place. You have no next of kin.

But dadin', I've got plenty. I've got brothers, nieces and nephews.

It would take yon Heusen years to find them all if he did manage to kill

both of us. That might give him some serious pause. Do you understand?"

Staring at him, Tess simply nodded. He was right, and every word he was

saying made such perfect sense. And she wanted to be sensible. She

wanted to be dignified, grateful, strong.

She wanted to be able to fight her battles, but she could not fight

alone.

If only she didn't want him as a man, if only she didn't grow jealous

and angry so quickly. And yet. he still had that haunting aroma. His

flesh would be slick and clean, and she wanted to know how the warmth

would feel beneath her tongue.

The way he lay against her, she felt the thunder of his heart, and her

own, and the beats seemed to rise together, and fall away, and rise

together again, quick, wild, rampant. She felt his breath against her

cheeks, and the iron lock of his thigh upon her own. She wanted to reach

out and run her fingers through the sandy tendrils of hair that fell so

hauntingly over his forehead, and so often shadowed and shaded his eyes,

and hid his innermost thoughts.

"Yes? You do understand?"

"Yes!" she cried out.

"And it all makes sense to you? You'll do what I'm asking you to do?"

"Yes. We'll go into town. As soon as I've stopped by the paper"

"Before."

"What difference does it make?"

"Maybe none. But the sooner von Heusen hears about this, the better

things are going to be."

"Fine!" She was nearly screaming again. She was close to tears because

she was desperate to escape him and the sensual blanketing of his body

upon hers.

"Please, let me up!"

He rolled to his side, and she was free.

"You do sound more like him every day, though," she muttered heedlessly,

lpache Summer 145 rolling from him to rise and dust the hay from her

gown.

"Carpetbagging Yanks, all of" -- "That's another thing we're going to

get straight here once and for all!" he stated. Before she could flee as

she had intended, his arm snaked around her, and she was tumbling into

the hay again. He straddled her, and his hands pinned her down.

"I'm not a Yank. I'm all.S. Cavalry of- ricer now, Miss. Stuart, but I

was born and bred in Missouri and I fought with Morgan for many long

years in the war. As a Reb, Tess. Got that straight? Don't you ever go

calling me a carpetbagging Yank again, and so help me God, I mean that!

Understand?"

She stared at him blankly. She had called him a Yank a dozen times, and

only now was he telling her the truth.

"Tess!"

"Yes!" she cried. She tore at her wrists and freed them from his grasp,

then shoved him as hard as she could. He didn't move.

"Either Jon or I should know where you are at all times.

All right?"

"No hiding in barns or carriage houses."

"I wasn't hiding! I was trying to make sure the fire was really out."

"I wouldn't have walked out of here without making sure the fire was

out."

"Maybe I needed to see for myself. The printing press is in here."

"That damned press! It's everything to you."

"Yes! The paper does mean everything! It's the only means I have to tell

the truth!"

He was silent for a moment. Then he moved slowly to his feet and reached

down for her. She tried to ignore his helping hands, but they were

quickly upon her. He stood her up, but he wasn't ready to release her

yet.

"I know what I'm doin [."

She inhaled the scent of him.

"I do imagine that you do, Lieutenant ."

"What does that mean?"

"You've had a nice bath, so it seems."

"And a shave."

"May I go now?"

He was smiling again.

"Jealous little thing, aren't you?"

"Why should I be? I had a wonderfully pleasant afternoon with Mr. Red

Feather. He's extremely well read and well traveled."

Jamie's eyes darkened and narrowed. For an instant she hated herself;

she had no right to want to cause trouble between the friends. But she

seemed driven to try and make Jamie angry.

And then it hit her like a bolt from the blue. She was falling in love

with Jamie!

No! I am not in love with him, she thought in dismay. But maybe she was.

She wanted him. In ways she had never imagined a woman would ever want a

man. "It's important," Jamie repeated softly, "that Jon or I know where

you are at all times. Did we get that one down yet?"

"Yes, thank you, I think we did. But since I do seem to get along much

better with Jori, don't you think I should report to him, Lieutenant?"

She twisted free and saluted stiffly.

He caught her shoulders and pulled her back.

"You're a minx, Tess. A tart-mouthed little m'mx with siren's eyes and

the longest claws this side of the Mississippi."

"Lieutenant, you're" -- "I'm not a Yank, or a carpetbagger, Tess, and so

help m ~"

"You're about to crush my shoulder blades, Lieutenant," she said as

regally as she could manage.

"Oh." He released her.

"Do excuse me."

"I try, Lieutenant. Daily. Hourly." She started for the door.

"Tess?"

She didn't turn.

"I could have made you beg, you know?"