fingers. He was going to a dance, he ~-r. afinded himself. And every

officer in the post would be there, and the enlisted men, too.

He gritted his teeth and willed his muscles and his body to cease

tightening with the harsh and ragged desire that seemed to rule his

every thought. He knocked on the door. "Come in, Lieutenant."

He pushed open the door, irritated that he should want her so badly,

determined that he would control himself. She was probably late, women

always were. She was probably trying to pin up her hair, or fix her

skirts or petticoats.

She wasn't. She was standing s'fiently by the small fire that burned in

the hearth. She didn't need to change a thing about her hair--it was

tied back from her face with a blue ribbon, then exploded in a froth of

sun-colored and honey ringlets. The tendrils curled over her shoulders

and fell against the rise of her breasts.

Her gown was soft blue, with a darker colored velvet bodice over a skirt

of swirling froth. The sleeves were puffed, baring much of her arms, and

the velvet bodice was low, but just low enough to show the risc of her

breasts, the beautiful texture of her flesh, the fascinating way the

soft curls of her hair lay upon it. She was even more beautiful than he

had seen her before, her eyes bright and fascinating with the light of

challenge, her smile soft and untouched by tragedy this night.

"You're ready?"

"Yes, of course. You did say sunset, didn't you?" He nodded. She reached

for a blue silk stole and handed it to him. Woodenly he took it from her

fingers and set it around her shoulders. The sweet scent of her hair

rose against his nostrils, and the essence of it seemed to fill him.

Damn.

He'd tried so hard to gain control before entering the house. Now the

scent of her was tearing through his senses, exciting his temper as well

as his passions.

"Shall we go?"

"Yes, of course." Her smile, he decided, was a wan- toh's. Miss. Stuart

was not entirely innocent, but rather a woman completely aware of her

power. She hadn't become a fluttering belle. Her intelligence was

apparent, along with her rock-hard strength, in her steady gaze.

And still . her beauty, her femininity . they were breathtaking. Jon had

seen it even when Jamie hadn't.

"Where is the dance?"

"In the alehouse," he said curtly.

"But then he determined that he knew the game himself; he would play it,

too.

He smiled graciously, capturing her hand and slipping it around his

elbow.

"The rest seems to have done you quite well. You're looking

wonderfully--healthy."

"Why, thank you, Lieutenant. With such flowery compliments a girl could

surely lose her head."

"What a little liar. You wouldn't lose your head if the entire Apache

Nation was staring you down, would you, Miss. Stuart?"

"There you go again, Lieutenant, what a dazzling compliment."

"Do you need compliments?"

"Maybe."

They had reached the open doors to the alehouse. Already music could be

heard, the strains of a lively jig. The notes of the fiddle seemed to be

loudest, and for a moment Jamie thought that Tess's smile wavered. He

was suddenly displeased with the night, and with himself. She had gone

through a harrowing experience, and she had come through it with

tremendous spirit.

No more platitudes for this chit! he warned himself. But her eyes met

his in the dim light spilling from the open doorway. So deep a blue they

were mauve in the darkness, so wide and unwavering upon his. He wished

suddenly that 65 she hadn't been young, that she hadn't been beautiful.

That she hadn't been different from any other woman he'd ever met in his

life.

"Maybe you shouldn't have come tonight," he said sol fly She smiled.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant, truly I am. Shall we go in?"

He nodded and escorted her on into the room. Dancers filled the floor,

soldiers in uniform, officers with epaulets and brightly colored sashes,

women in their sparkling fin- cry. The floor seemed alive with the blue

and gold of the uniforms, and with brilliant reds and greens and soft

pastels, lovely silks and brocades, satins and velvets.

But none compared with the blue gown that Tess Stuart was wearing. No

other garment seemed to so fit a woman, to cling to her shape, to

conceal and enhance, to so artfully combine both purity and sweetly

simmering sensuality.

Like the touch of her fingers upon his arm. Like the scent of roses that

seemed to fill him and make him mindless of what else went on.

Jamie saw Jon Red Feather coming toward them, and he swore softly

beneath his breath. Normally the darned half breed was as silent as the

night. Suddenly these days he was expounding away with his Oxford

eloquence.

"Miss. Stuart! Jamie. Ah, you've made it at last. Miss. Stuart, please

don't think me too bold--Jamie! I dare demand the first dance!"

"Jon" -- he began in protest.

"Jon! Good evening!"

The delight in Tess's voice was so obvious that Jamie wanted to spit.

If the two of them were so damned all-fired eager to be together, Jon

should have escorted her tonight. It wouldn't have made the least bit of

difference to him.

The hell it wouldn't. She was his.

He'd found her, he'd touched her and he'd brought her back here. It

might be a trap, but he was deep within it now, and there was no

crawling out. Still, he had to he civil. Too bad they weren't out on the

plain. He and Jon could go to it like savage kids. They'd done it

before.

He smiled and bowed with the best of the Southern chivalry he could

remember from the days before the war.

"Jori--Miss. Stuart, please. Just return her in one piece, Jon."

"He's trying to pretend that I take scalps. I don't, you know," Jon

informed her gravely.

Tess smiled again--brilliantly. Everything about her lit up. Smiles for

him, and taunts for me! And still, Miss. Stuart, we are irrevocably

bound, aren't we? "Evenin', James," the colonel addressed him.

"Evenin', sir."

"I see that Miss. Stuart has been whisked away." He nodded toward the

dancers.

"Well, she's lovely. A very welcome addition to our little soiree, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah! Well, you shall't be lonely long. There's Eliza coming to whisk you

away, I dare say."

Eliza was on her way over. She had stopped to chat at the punch table,

but now, with her fan fluttering against the heat of the night, she was

hurrying around the dancers to greet him.

He hadn't seen her since he'd come back with Tess.

But she knew. She knew that he'd come back with a woman, and she knew

that he was with Tess tonight. He could see it in her velvet dark eyes.

She was smiling, but it seemed that the curve of her lip hid a snarl.

She was still something to behold. Her neck was long and swan like her

hair as dark as ebony, and though she was slender and graceful, a man

could g~t lost for hours in her voluptuous breasts. Her skin was ivory

and flawless, her lips red, her face lovely. Jamie knew she'd had her

mind set on tormenting him for some time. He usually enjoyed her company

because she was such a brazen piece of baggage. He'd seen her break half

a dozen hearts before she'd deter67 mined to stomp on his, but he'd

always managed to hold his distance from her. To take care that he never

spoke a word that sounded like commitment.

He hadn't been able to refuse her constant seduction. He hadn't been her

first lover, and he was sure that he wouldn't be her last.

She was especially seductive this evening, her ink-dark hair caught to

one side of her head and plunging in a black cascade over one shoulder,

her bodice so low-cut as to reveal the endless depths of the valley

between her breasts, her kelly-green gown contrasting beautifully with

the darkness of her hair and the perfect ivory of her complexion.

"Jamie, darling'! Well, you have saved the first dance for me. I've

missed you so!"

In full view of the company she slipped her arms around him, rose on

tiptoe and kissed his lips.

He waited for something to stir inside him. He swore inwardly. It was

Tess.

He was obsessed, and any other touch would leave him cold until he had

quenched that newfound fire. "Eliza, nice to see you," he murmured,

catching her arms and unwinding them from around him. She pouted

prettily, but he barely noticed. He was looking past her, toward the

dance floor where Tess smiled and laughed, swirled and dipped and

whirled in his best friend's arms.

They were striking together, the tall half-breed and the exquisite blond

who looked so delicate but had a will of pure steel. "Dance, yes!" he

muttered, and he swept Eliza into his arms and onto the floor.

"I was afraid that you hadn't missed me!" she told him, her eyes growing

dark.

"What? Of course I missed you," he said.

"You didn't come to see me last night."

"No, I had reports to fill out."

"I waited for you. Very late. Into the night."

"I'm sorry."

I'll wait again."

It was promising. Maybe he could close his eyes and imagine that he held

Tess's sun-honey blond hess

No. It wouldn't be fair.

He smiled.

"Eliza, I brought Miss. Stuart to the dance."

"Miss. Stuart?

Oh, yes! I heard about her! The zany woman who thinks white men are

Comanche." She shuddered.

"Honestly, Jamie, I understand how you might feel responsible, but just

walk her home and then come on over."

"Can't, Eliza. Not tonight."

She looked furious for a moment, as if she was about to argue. But she

fell silent, pressing closer to him. The musky scent she was wearing

rose around him. He felt the pressure of her breasts, the flash of a

thigh. She wanted to excite him.

"I'm glad to find you so understanding, Eliza," he said pleasantly.

"Of course. I'm always understanding," she told him gravely, sweetly.

Like hell, he thought. But he smiled. Jon was no longer dancing with

Tess.

She'd already danced with half the men in the regiment, Jamie thought

irritably. She was in the arms of a young sergeant now, a handsome

towhead stripling! A kid who probably hadn't even shaved yet. And he was

gushing all over her.

Just about to trip over his own darned tongue. Jon reclaimed her.

Jamie gritted his teeth, determined to watch his date for the evening no

more. He had no way of knowing that Tess Stuart was watching him every

bit as covertly. Those strange stirrings rose inside her as she watched

the ebony-haired enchantress laughing, pressing against him, heaving her

bovine breasts beneath his nose. She was very anxious to be retrieved by

Jon, and managed to dance her way over to the tall Sioux.

He promptly cut in and swept her around, smiling like the devil's own

disciple.

"Mr. Red Feather?"

"yes?"

"Who is the massive mount of mammary glands?" He laughexl and bent low

to whisper against her ear.

"That, Miss. Stuart, is Eliza."

He lifted his head again and smiled benignly toward Jamie.

"Keep an eye on that one," he warned Tess.

"I certainly intend to," she told him sweetly, then she tossed her hair

and laughed, and the sound of her voice was like a melody on the air.

And every man in the place seemed to turn to her. Including Jamie

Slater.

Chapter Four.

Tess didn't see how or when Jamie extricated himself from Miss. Eliza,

but within a few minutes, he was tapping on Jon's shoulder, claiming her

for a dance. She smiled serenely as they moved to the music. Hemust have

attended many of these little balls. He was as accomplished at dancing

as he was with riding and shooting. She felt suddenly as if she walked

on air herself, as if the room and the people all around them faded, as

if they shared more than a simple touch. Maybe they did. His eyes were