The Darkest Heart by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

water and began washing without looking at him. She heard him splash out and started to relax. The water was delicious. She had been dirty. This wasn’t so bad, and using the sand as a scrub was an innovative idea. She dunked her head and began to rinse her long hair. Her gaze strayed to the bank.
    She tensed, while something hot flamed inside her.
    His buttocks were high and hard and tight, a pale bronze color, a stunning contrast to his darkly bronzed back and arms. She quickly looked down, anywhere but at him. Didn’t he care that he was standing there nude? And what had he been doing, immersing himself in the smoke from the fire like that?
    “Wash your clothes and come here,” he called.
    Her glance strayed. “What are we doing?”
    He didn’t turn to face her. The smoke was thick andfragrant. “The dead carry disease. It’s bad to touch them, to be near them. The smoke is purifying.”
    She washed her clothes and didn’t tell him what she thought about such primitive beliefs. Then, clad in her wet underthings, her arms crossed tightly over her breasts, she hesitantly approached—pausing behind him and careful not to look at his nudity. He stepped to the left, she stepped forward. The smoke was awful. She coughed.
    “Just relax,” he said. “Do as I do.”
    He bent and picked up the canteen and began dousing the fire. Thick steam rose, blanketing them with its warmth. She could hear his breathing, deeper and louder than normal. He had told her to do as he did. In their precarious state of undress, she didn’t want to attract his attention by not obeying. She began imitating his deep, uneven breathing, matching the sound, careful not to look at him. It was a ragged duet. He said, “What in hell are you doing?”
    She looked at him without thinking. His jaw was clenched. He was looking at her—specifically, he was looking at her breasts with their hard nipples. Candice instantly covered her chest with her arms—unsuccessfully. “You told me to do what you do.”
    He exhaled loudly, his eyes moving to her guileless face. Candice reddened and looked down, then quickly away.
    Too late—nothing would chase away the image of his thick, swollen shaft impaling the air. So thick, so big. She decided she didn’t care about contamination. She ran to her clothes and struggled into them. He didn’t say another word.

CHAPTER NINE
    At dawn, he awoke.
    The world was still gray, with the faintest pink blush in the east. Last night they had moved a half mile downstream and made a camp for the night. Jack got soundlessly to his feet, his gaze instantly searching her out. She lay curled on the other side of the dead fire beneath the buckskin hide. He looked at her for one long moment, then turned and left the camp.
    Many images assailed him. How she had looked standing in the steam of the fire clad in her thin, wet undergarments; her expression when she had seen him. He almost smiled. Of course he hadn’t meant the erection to happen, as he didn’t mean it now, but he needed a woman—and he wanted her.
    They were only about thirty hours from the High C, and he couldn’t get there too soon. It was the enforced intimacy, he was sure. If she had been just another beautiful white woman he had seen in passing, ne would have forgotten her. His body wouldn’t be going crazy with impossible, hopeless need.
    Of course, there were so few white women in these parts, and even fewer pretty ones, much less a woman like Candice Carter.
Kincaid
, he corrected. Candice Carter Kincaid. He resolved to take care of his needs as soon as possible, and knew he was only kidding himself if he thought some whore’s arms were going to erase her image.
    He was angry again—a dark, frustrated anger of the heart.
    The growl sounded above him.
    The instant he heard it he had many thoughts in one split second. The mountain lion was belligerent. He hadn’t been aware of it because he was so preoccupied with her. The woman was going to be the