Kary, Elizabeth (48 page)

To
Leigh, he had always been a supremely rational man, in control of his life, his
job, and his emotions. Yet two nights ago Hayes had been filled with a stony
belligerence and a brightly burning fury that she was stunned to find in the
man she thought she knew. Hayes had been more than willing to face down
Quantrill for her sake and might have done murder if Travis had let him come to
rescue her. That fierce, primitive facet of Hayes's nature seemed strangely out
of character for the man who had taken her for his wife.

Perhaps
it was seeing him away from the cool, impersonal life they lived in St. Louis
that enabled her to focus on things that had seemed hidden from her before.
Leigh realized that Hayes was strong, not dictatorial; courageous, not just
determined; primitive and passionate when he had always seemed so rational and
controlled. There were depths to him, reservoirs of emotion he had not let her
see. Or perhaps she had been too caught up in setting barriers between them to
notice that this was a man from whom she needed no protection. For reasons of
her own, for fears and guilt that ran deep, she had refused to acknowledge the
strength of Hayes's emotions. It seemed possible that he had suppressed them
too, and she was only beginning to surmise his reasons for remaining aloof.

The
solitude of early morning was a time best given to introspection, and as Leigh
lay watching the first pale streaks of apricot peep from beyond the horizon,
she realized that she must admit, at least to herself, what Hayes had come to
mean to her. In the split second when Quantrill had ordered Hayes killed, Leigh
had come face-to-face with her feelings for her husband. There had been no time
to consider the intensity and passion of her response in her need to spare his
life. But afterward the strength of it had rung like an echo through her being,
its persistence forcing her to acknowledge the truth: that she cared for Hayes
far more than she had realized.

As
she watched his face, soft and vacant in slumber, she found new emotions
welling in her heart. Her gaze caressed his hard, beard-stubbled jaw, the
inconsistently gentle curve of his mouth, and the flare of dark lashes against
his sunburned cheeks. She had always recognized how compelling his features
were in their harsh, determined way, but she was only now becoming aware of the
tenderness and vulnerability that lay within him.

The
new thoughts and feelings stirring in Leigh were having an odd effect, and she
knew if she stayed beside Hayes much longer, she would do what she had never
before done in their married life: she would kiss him awake and ask him to make
love to her.

The
thought sent Leigh's mind reeling, and she knew that she might better get on
about the business of a new day than expose the subtle, uncomfortable changes
her new understanding of Hayes elicited. Carefully she slid from beneath his
arm and squirmed toward the edge of the blanket. Even in sleep, Hayes seemed to
register her defection, and a faint frown came and went between his brows.
Still, he slept on, and Leigh was anxious to escape his unsettling presence.

It
seemed to have been days and days since she'd had time to herself or even a
chance to bathe. Coming noiselessly to her feet beside the wagon, she decided
to go down to the spring before the rest of the camp was stirring. With
stealthy movements she crept into the wagon, seeking soap, towel, and some
fresh clothes to put on after her bath.

Though
she had not made any sound, as she turned to go she saw that Bran was watching
her.

"Are
you all right?" she whispered, bending close beside him.

Bran
nodded. "And are you?"

"Yes,
of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You
had a close call with Quantrill the other night, and traveling the way we have
can't have been easy for you." His consideration touched her, but she did
not welcome his concern.

"I'm
fine, Bran. You need not worry."

"And
how is Hayes?"

"Hayes?"
Leigh was baffled by the question. "He's a fine man, Leigh," he
continued, "and he loves you so."

"Loves
me?"

Since
they were conversing in whispers, Bran must have missed her tone of
incredulity.

"It
was so evident the other night," he went on. "When Travis went to get
you from Quantrill, Hayes was beside himself with worry. And the expression in
his eyes when he saw that you were safe was almost painful to behold."

Brandon's
words brought color to Leigh's cheeks and served to complicate her already
confused thoughts.

"Bran,
hush. You'll wake the others," she admonished him in a whisper. "And
I will have my bath before the rest are up. I'll warrant you could do with a
bit more sleep, too."

Leigh
left the wagon as silently as she had entered and sneaked one last look at
Hayes before she headed for the stream. He was sleeping soundly with one hand
stretched out as if he were searching for her in the empty space beside him.

On
the slope down to the spring, she came upon Travis leaning back against a tree
with the long rifle braced across his knees. "Good morning," she
called out softly as she approached him. "Is everything quiet?"

Nathan
nodded. "Going to have a bath?" he queried, noting the towels and
fresh clothes she was carrying in her arms.

"I
suppose that spring will be as cold as ice even at this time of year," she
answered, "but a quick dunking will do at least a bit to get me
clean."

Swinging
around a curve in the path took her out of Nathan's sight, and Leigh reveled in
the freshness of the morning breeze and the sound of the chirping birds in the
treetops. Even before the spring came into view, she could hear the gurgling
water and smell the dampness of the forest glade. Moving behind a screen of
bushes, she quickly found a place to undress.

The
shallow natural pool that had formed in the rock just below where the spring
came to earth was brilliant azure blue, and as Leigh waded in, ripples trembled
across the shimmering surface, disturbing the reflections of the late-summer
sky. With teeth chattering and gooseflesh blossoming all over her body, Leigh
immersed herself in the frigid, hip-deep water, but once the initial chill had
passed, she began to enjoy the invigorating cold. Movement seemed to warm her,
and she busied herself washing first her hair and then the rest of her body.
The longer she stayed in the pool, the less the temperature bothered her,
and when she
was clean, she lay back against the shallower rim of her natural tub and let
herself drift with the spring's gentle downhill flow.

It
was going to be a glorious day. High above, the sky blazed deep lapis blue and
was brushed with pale, soft wisps of clouds. The uppermost branches of the
trees that wove a delicate, open pattern above her were catching the intensity
of the sun, its low-angled rays gilding the rustling leaves with apricot and
amber. But if the sun was up, Leigh knew the others back at camp would be
rising too, and she needed to get on with her chores. It was a wonder that no
one had come to disturb her solitude.

With
silvery droplets streaming from her hair, breasts, and flanks, Leigh rose from
the pool and turned back to where she had left her clothes.

"I
wondered how long you would be able to stand the cold," a familiar voice
said, "but then I didn't want to bother you, a wood nymph at her
bath."

Leigh's
head snapped up at Hayes's teasing words, and she saw her husband standing at
the foot of the path with a bucket in his hand. "What are you doing here?"
she snapped through chattering teeth, though his reasons for being at the
stream were patently obvious.

"I'm
just keeping watch," he told her, grinning as if he were thoroughly
pleased by what he was watching.

Guessing
the trend of his thoughts, Leigh sank back into the water. "So you were
just keeping watch over me as I bathed?" she asked with evident
skepticism. "How wonderfully gallant."

Hayes
came to stand at the edge of the pool, and Leigh could tell by his expression
that the water did little to obscure his view of her. "I watched over you
last night as you slept, so why shouldn't I keep watch over you as you
bathe?"

In
spite of the pool's temperature, a flush rose to darken Leigh's skin. It gave
her an odd, strangely intimate feeling to know that he had watched her the
previous night much as she had watched him this morning.

"How
cold is that water, anyway?" he went on. "I've been thinking about
taking a bath myself."

Leigh
nibbled thoughtfully at her bottom lip before she issued her invitation.
"Why don't you come and join me? The pool is big enough for two."

If
Leigh had expected reticence on Hayes's part, she was destined to be
disappointed. Without pausing to consider that he had been sent to get water
for breakfast, Hayes quickly stripped off his clothes and splashed into the
pool to join her.

She
laughed when he drew a shuddering breath in response to the temperature of the
spring water, and she wriggled over to make room for him beside her. "Duck
down, and after a minute it won't seem so bad," she advised, trying to
hide her grin. His response to the cold was much as hers had been, and she ran
her fingers over his skin as if to smooth away the goosebumps.

"Jesus,
woman!" he exclaimed. "Your blood must be turned to ice by now."

"Hardly,"
she replied and realized it was true, for there was a strange new warmth
coursing through her, a warmth only Hayes's nearness could have caused.
Reaching across where he lay shivering in the shallows, Leigh took the cake of
soap from the rock where she had left it.

"Dunk
your head," she instructed, "and I'll help you wash your hair."
Though Hayes scowled at her, he did as she asked, huffing again at the chill of
the water as he broke the surface. Rubbing the bar of soap between her hands,
Leigh worked up a foamy lather and began to rub it in. Her fingers wove through
the thick thatch of walnut brown, working the soap into a cap of trailing
bubbles, massaging his scalp with slow, languorous strokes.

"You're
going to make me smell like a maiden aunt," he complained, sniffing at the
scented soap.

"You
could have brought some soap of your own," she countered, smoothing her
thumbs along the froth at his temples, "but no matter what I use, you'll
smell like you."

That
statement seemed to intrigue Hayes. "And how do I smell?"

Fresh
color flared in Leigh's cheeks. "Oh, I don't know," she stammered.
"Clean, mostly clean, sometimes with a touch of tobacco and a kind of
citrus scent."

Somehow
this was becoming a very unsettling conversation, and Leigh was at a loss to
explain her discomfort.

"Now
rinse," she ordered gruffly and waited for him to comply.

With
water streaming down across his neck and shoulders, it seemed only natural for
her to continue with his bath. Taking up the soap again, she made more lather
and smoothed the foam across his shoulders, then slowly down his arms.

"You
have a redhead's scent," he said rather abruptly, picking up the dangling
thread of their conversation. "That first afternoon at Camp Jackson,
before I even saw your face, I remember thinking how good you smelled—like
sunlight and spice."

"Oh?"
Leigh's hands were poised against his breastbone, and she was unreasonably
aware of the thudding of his heart.

There
were drops of water clinging to his lashes and shimmering in the thickness of
his hair. More slid toward his jaw and gathered in deep valleys that bracketed
his smile. Driven by a compulsion she could find no way to deny, Leigh leaned
ever so slightly forward and caught one of the shining droplets with her
tongue. The roughness of his whiskers rasped against the tip, a prickly,
abrasive texture that sent shudders chasing down her spine. As she gathered the
drop into her mouth, she became unwillingly aware of the taste of Hayes, of the
heat and vitality of his skin, of her newly discovered feelings for this man.

The
drop rolled slowly down her throat, and she moved to catch another, lapping
gently upward toward his nose and then out across his cheek. He went utterly
still beside her, as if reveling in the sensation, and beneath her trembling palms
she could feel his heart beat double time. Questioningly she raised her head,
and they froze staring, each lost in the glow of the other's eyes. Then Hayes's
mouth came down to claim hers in a kiss sweet and ripe with longing.

At
the simple touching of lips, a restless, red-hot tide began to flow between
them, and Leigh's tongue seemed drawn to trace the softening contours of his
mouth. There was no resistance to her tentative, delicate probe, and she
pressed deeper to explore the warm, moist cavity beyond. She savored the
texture of his tongue, the fresh subtlety of mint, and knew that he had chewed
some of the leaves that grew along the trail to the spring just as she had
done. She laved the interior of his mouth, touched the smoothness of his teeth,
drawing ever closer within the circle of his arms.

He
seemed willing yet restrained, eager but somehow wary. The contradictions she
sensed within him were fuel to her tumultuous emotions, and though she ached to
bind him closer, caution held her back. Things between them were suddenly
different than they had ever been before, and she needed time to consider
whether he or she had changed.