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“Oh, those. They’re from the ride in the travois.”
His eyes swung up to hers and penetrated her with their heat. He kept his hands against her flesh. His voice was as soft as his touch. “You should have said something.”
She became entranced with the movements of his mustache as his mouth formed words. Perhaps that’s why she whispered, “Would saying something have changed anything?”
A strand of her hair got caught in the stubble on his chin. It connected them like a filament of light. Not that they needed it. Their stare was almost palpable. It lasted forever and wasn’t broken until a log in the fireplace popped loudly. They both jumped guiltily.
Cooper resumed his broody expression and growled. “No. It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Seconds later the drape fluttered back into place behind him. Rusty was trembling. From the cold, she averred. He had kept her standing here long enough to get chilled. She wrapped the towel around her and dried quickly. The cloth was so coarse it left her skin tingling. It chafed the delicate areas of her body, especially her nipples. When she finished drying, they were abnormally rosy and pointed. Achy. And throbbing. And hot.
“It’s the towel,” she muttered as she pulled on her silk long johns.
“What is it this time?” The cantankerous question came from the other side of the drape.
“What?”
“I heard you say something.”
“I said this towel would make a great scouring pad.”
“It was the best I could come up with.”
“I wasn’t being critical.”
“That’d be a first.”
She muttered something else beneath her breath, making sure he didn’t overhear it this time, since it was an epithet grossly unflattering to his lineage and personality.
Aggravated, she ungracefully pulled the tank top over her head. Her nipples poked darkly against the clinging fabric. The silkiness, which should have felt soothing after the towel, only seemed to irritate them more.
She repacked her toiletries in their carrying case and dropped down into the chair. Bending at the waist, she flipped all her hair forward and rubbed it vigorously with the towel, alternately brushing it. Five minutes later, she flung her head back and her semidried hair settled against her shoulders in russet waves. It wasn’t styled, but it was clean, and that was a definite improvement.
It was when she was replacing her hairbrush in the cosmetic kit that she noticed the condition of her nails. They had been jaggedly broken or torn away. She groaned audibly.
Within a heartbeat, the curtain was thrown back and Cooper was standing there. “What’s the matter? Is it your leg? Is it—”
He broke off when he realized that Rusty wasn’t in any pain. But even if that realization hadn’t shut him up, the sight of her sitting silhouetted against the golden firelight, a halo of wavy cinnamon-colored hair wreathing her head like an aura would have. She was wearing a top that was more alluring than concealing. The shadows of her nipples drew his eyes like magnets. Even now, he could feel the heaviness of her breasts where they had rested on his forearms minutes ago.
His blood turned to molten lava, hot and thick and rampant. It surged toward his sex where it collected and produced the normal, but currently unwanted, reaction. It was painful in its intensity.
r /> And since he couldn’t alleviate it, he released his sexual tension by another means: fury. His face grew dark with menace. His heavy brows, more gold than brown in the firelight, were intimidatingly drawn into a frown over his eyes. Since he couldn’t taste her with his tongue—as he was dying to do—he’d use it to verbally lash her.
“You were groaning over your damn fingernails?” he shouted.
“They’re all chipped and broken,” Rusty yelled back at him.
“Better them than your neck, you little fool.”
“Stop calling me that, Cooper. I’m not a fool.”
“You couldn’t even figure out that those two hillbillies wanted to rape you.”
Her mouth drew up into a sullen pout that only inflamed him further because he wanted to kiss it so badly. His unquenchable desire prompted him to say ugly, hurtful things. “You did all you could to entice them, didn’t you? Sitting near the fire when you know what it does to your eyes and complexion. Brushing your hair until it crackled. You know what that kind of thing does to a man, don’t you? You know it drives him crazy with lust.” Then, realizing that his tirade was as good as a confession, he sneered, “I’m surprised you didn’t come out in that getup last night and flaunt yourself in front of Reuben, the poor jerk.”
Rusty’s eyes smarted with tears. His estimation of her was far lower than she had thought. Not only did he think she was useless, he thought she was no better than a whore.
“I didn’t do anything on purpose. You know that, no matter what you say.” Instinctively, in self-defense, she crossed her arms over her chest.
