“Going somewhere?” he asked. “Like on a fast getaway?”
She sashayed past him to exit the building. “Nope, just slipped into more comfortable and familiar clothing. And by the way, I’d like to shoot the imbecile who decreed that women should wear hampering dresses. It was, no doubt, the inspiration of a man who wanted quick and easy access to a woman when he wanted to appease his lusty craving…what’s the purpose of that building?” she asked in the same breath.
Rafe glanced in the direction she indicated. “That’s the weapons and ammunition depot. Be careful about shooting off your mouth around it. I wouldn’t want you, or it, to blow sky-high.”
“Point noted, General,” she said. “And what’s the purpose of that building?”
“Temporary storage for the mess hall and infirmary. The stockade fence will be dismantled and the post will be expanded after the Run. We are cramped for space.”
Rafe answered all of her questions—until she asked how many guards were posted in the two guard towers on opposite corners of the enclosed garrison. “Why do you want to know that?” he asked suspiciously.
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Simple curiosity.”
He smirked. “There’s nothing simple about you. Without a doubt, you’re the most complicated woman I have ever encountered.”
“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” She halted to stare impishly at him. “Well, if it makes you feel better, General, you’re the most frustrating man I have ever met.”
The angled light cast by a lantern beamed across her enchanting face, compelling Rafe closer. He couldn’t remember wanting to kiss a woman quite as much as he wanted to capture Karissa’s lush, sensuous lips. While it was true that her sassy mouth was twice as big as she was, he was still intrigued by it, compelled to taste her thoroughly.
Karissa forgot to breathe when she noticed the flicker of awareness in his pewter-colored eyes. When he leaned toward her, suffocating her with his nearness—without actually touching her—unfamiliar sensations coiled in the pit of her stomach. He looked as if he was contemplating kissing her, and conflicting emotions roiled inside her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how it felt to be wrapped in his sinewy arms and feel his full lips moving upon hers.
She was afraid she might like it too much. Yet, that didn’t stop her traitorous body from gravitating ever closer to him, leaving the narrow space between them to crackle with sensual speculation.
“Rafe—?” Her voice faltered. She wasn’t sure if she was asking him to move closer or back away.
“Karissa—?” Rafe stood there, savoring her unique scent, lost in the fathomless depths of her shimmering green eyes. He was torn between reckless desire and ruthless self-denial, unwillingly drawn to her and helpless in his inability to control the aching need that prowled through him.
Just when he felt himself give in to the overwhelming need to draw her into his arms and taste her, a voice called out, “Ah, there you are, Major.”
Rafe shook himself from the bedeviling trance and stepped back. He would gladly have promoted Lieutenant Johnson on the spot, for his timely interruption. A few more moments and Rafe would have pulled Karissa into his arms, sampled the sweet nectar of those full lips and abandoned the good sense he’d spent years accumulating.
“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?” Rafe asked. His voice sounded as if it had rusted.
“One of our men was suddenly taken ill. The post surgeon wants to speak to you about relieving him of his duties until he’s back on his feet,” Lieutenant Johnson reported.
“Tell Doc Winston I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Rafe took Karissa’s arm and steered her back to officers’ quarters. “I’m sorry to cut your walk short,” he said very formally.
“Just as well. I have a stack of mending to tend. But thank you for the grand tour.”
She didn’t protest when he practically shoveled her into the room then secured the door for the night. Rafe leaned against the wall and inhaled a steadying breath. Willfully he forced all thoughts of Karissa from his mind. It wasn’t easy, but he was the commandant of this post and his duties always came first.
He wondered why he’d had so much trouble remembering that the past two days.
Chapter Four
R afe spent the following day doing exactly the same thing he had done the day before—and the day before that. Tracking down illegal squatters. He and his patrol had been led on a hair-raising chase over hill and dale before capturing four men who resisted arrest and had to be forcefully subdued.
Tired, irritable and hungry, Rafe rode into the fort. The place looked normal, with off-duty soldiers strolling about. But something didn’t feel quite right. Rafe glanced suspiciously toward the officers’ quarters. Karissa damn well better be where she was supposed to be.
He suspected that she had used their tour the previous night to case the area, looking for a niche in the shadows to hide out before making her getaway.
He had anticipated that she would wait until she thought she’d lulled him into a false sense of control and had him thinking she had accepted captivity before she made her escape. But knowing Karissa, his attempt to second-guess her strategy would work against him, not for him. Much as he hated to admit it, she was a mental step ahead of him.
The woman was too smart by half.
Rafe shifted uneasily in the saddle as he passed by the officers’ quarters. The sixth sense that he’d learned to rely on warned him that something was wrong. It left him with an uneasy tension that prompted him to make fast work of tending his horse. In record time he shut Sergeant in his stall and headed straight for his quarters. He needed to see for himself that Karissa was still in custody.
A growl exploded from his lips when he opened the door to find his room in shambles. The sheets and blankets were in a tangled heap. The table had been up-ended; the bookshelf had toppled over, leaving his military manuals strewn about like casualties of war. The glass globe of the lantern lay in shattered pieces on the floor and oil stained the floorboards.
“Damn her!” Rafe said furiously as he stormed outside.
“She’s gone?” Micah hooted. “I presumed—”
Rafe wheeled on his longtime friend. “You never presume when it comes to that woman!” he fumed. “The moment I think we have reached a workable truce she rips my quarters to shreds and escapes.” He swung his arms in agitated gestures. “This is the thanks I get for guarding the land she wants to claim and keeping it free of other squatters.”
“I’ll go after her,” Micah volunteered hurriedly. “I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to track her down.”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Rafe countered as he stalked off. “She is my responsibility and this is another act of rebellion against my position of authority.”
Rafe didn’t add that, although Micah was probably better suited for pursuing Karissa, he was suffering from an absurd feeling of possessiveness and protectiveness. He wanted to be the one to track her down. He wanted to be the one to discover she hadn’t put herself in harm’s way. He wanted to be the one to rake her over live coals for destroying his quarters and thumbing her nose at his orders. And, by damned, he was going to drag her back to the post to serve her time for breaking the laws governing the upcoming Land Run.
“Um…Rafe?” Micah murmured as he followed his friend.
“What?” he growled as he headed back to the stables.
“I know you’re furious,” Micah called after him, “but outright murder doesn’t become you. You are first and always an officer and a gentleman.”
“Maybe