Tykota's Woman(22)

"Of course. My brother taught me one summer." She smiled. "But I could never tell my mother that he had. Ladies don't swim," she said, laughing.

"Then a lady could drown."

"Ladies do not do many of the things I have done since I left New Orleans."

Tykota found himself fascinated by the water sliding off her soft skin, and he felt an ache begin deep inside. She was so innocent and beautiful, and he was becoming too attached to her. He had to put some distance between them.

She went under and came up again. "I never thought anything could feel so good."

He knew other things that could-his lips touching her neck, then sliding up to her lips. "You remind me of a child given her first toy."

Her laughter was musical. Her happiness gladdened his heart. Beads of water clung to her face, and he wanted to reach out and touch them, touch her hair, her lips.

"Oh, this is better than any toy. I never thought water could taste so good," she said gleefully. "Being raised in a place where there is water in abundance, I have always taken it for granted."

"There are many things that we do not treasure, Makinna, until we lose them."

The way he said her name warned her. She averted her eyes and dipped her hands in the water, sifting it between her fingers. "Have you lost something you treasured?" she asked. When she looked up again, she saw sadness in his eyes. Then his gaze hardened, and he glanced at the horizon.

Clearly, he was not going to answer her question. Already his thoughts were far away, and she sensed that if she spoke at that moment, he wouldn't even hear her. She felt an iron control at work within him, and again she wondered what it would take to ever make that control slip. He dipped his hands in the water and raised them to his lips. He was naked to the waist, and she had to ball her fists to keep from reaching out and touching his bronzed skin.

Makinna turned away, horrified by her improper thoughts and reactions to Tykota. She waded slowly toward the shore and found shelter in the shade of a prickly shrub. But her gaze went back to Tykota, and she watched him emerge from the spring. As he moved toward her, the water became shallower, revealing more of his body with each step he took. His ebony hair hung thickly past his shoulders, and his wet trousers molded to his muscular thighs like a second skin.

She averted her gaze, glancing at the thin ribbon of greenery growing alongside the spring. But again her eyes sought out Tykota. He was such a marvelous-looking man. She blushed and ducked her head, hoping he wouldn't realize what she was feeling as she saw the clear outline of his disturbing masculinity.

Against her will, she watched again as he removed his boots, pouring the water out of them. Then she gasped when he began to remove his trousers. She tensed, fearing he would have nothing on underneath. But he wore a skimpy breechcloth that did little to cover his rippling muscles. Blushing, she lowered her gaze, again ashamed of her improper thoughts.

She lay back, closed her eyes, and tried to still her beating heart. She would not look in his direction again, she told herself.

Makinna lay still, listening to the wind and trying to recall happier days in New Orleans. But suddenly she could only remember the sad times. Her father being forced to sell their home and move them to a smaller house near the docks. She hadn't minded so much, but her brother and father had. Her father had died a broken man a year after the move. She remembered her sister moving away. Her mother and brother dying. Makinna couldn't bear to think about her family-the pain was too deep, the loneliness too sharp.

She cushioned her head on her folded arms and tried to sleep.

Makinna awoke to the most delicious aroma she'd ever smelled-meat roasting over a campfire. She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, smiling at Tykota, who was bent over the spit turning the meat.

"I don't care if that is rattlesnake, I'm ravenous.

He stood up to his full height, and she was relieved to see that he had put on his trousers and boots. "We dine on rabbit tonight."

She rose to join him at the fire, watching the drippings sizzle on hot stones. "Isn't it dangerous to have a fire at night? Do you no longer fear the Apache?"

"The Apache do not know of this place."

"Oh."

She watched the meat with hungry eyes. "When will it be ready?"

"Now."

She stepped to the spring to wash her hands and take a deep drink before returning to Tykota. "I didn't hear you fire your gun. How did you kill the rabbit?"

"I used my knife."

"Oh. Of course." She could not imagine any one hunting with just a knife. "Is that your usual hunting method?"

"Sometimes."

Makinna was becoming annoyed with his vague answers-or no answers at all. "You never talk unless it's to give me an order, Tykota."