"You," he said coldly, "are going to the fort if I have to tie you and carry you belly down over my saddle."

"You don't have a saddle."

"Janna-"

"No," she interrupted. "You can tie me up and haul me from one end of the territory to the other, but the second you turn your back or take off the ropes I'll be gone to Black Plateau."

Ty looked into Janna's unflinching gray eyes and knew that she meant every word. Her body might have been slender but her will was fully the equal of his own.

Ty looked from Janna's wide gray eyes to her lips flushed with heat and life. He could think of many, many things he would like to do at that moment, but none would be quite as sweet as sliding his tongue into her mouth until he could taste nothing but her, feel nothing but her, know nothing but her.

Yet he shouldn't even touch her. Even if she didn't have the sense to realize it, she was a nearly helpless girl whose life was at risk every hour she spent running free with her mustangs.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked huskily.

"Same thing I'm going to do with you," she retorted.

Ty smiled slowly. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked, his voice deep, his mouth frankly sensual.

"Hunt L-Lucifer," Janna said, stammering slightly, wondering what had given Ty's green eyes their sudden heat and intensity.

"I thought you didn't want to help anyone catch Lucifer."

"I said 'hunt,' not 'catch.'"

"Little one, what I hunt, I catch."

Janna tried to breathe, couldn't, and tried again. "Ty…" she said, her voice ragged.

The word sounded more like a sigh than a name. She licked her lips and prepared to try again.

Ty's hands tightened almost painfully around Janna's rib cage as he watched the pink tip of her tongue appear and disappear, leaving behind lips that were moist, soft and inviting. Knowing he shouldn't, unable to help himself, he slowly brought Janna closer to his own mouth.

Just beyond the shelter of the brush, Zebra threw up her head and pricked her ears, staring upwind. Her nostrils flared, fluttered and flared again. Abruptly her ears flattened to her head.

Ty dropped to the ground, taking Janna with him.

Moments later, no more than two hundred feet away, a group of four Indian warriors rode out of a shallow ravine.

Chapter Fourteen

Stomach on the hard, uneven ground, Janna lay wedged between a boulder on one side and Ty's body on the other. Very slowly she turned her head until she could see beneath Ty's chin. He had a pistol in his left hand and was easing his right hand toward another boulder, where he had propped his new carbine before he woke her up. From the corner of her eye she saw his long fingers wrap around the stock of the weapon. Without making a sound he lifted the carbine and slowly, slowly eased it into firing position at his shoulder.

Screened by brush and rocks, Janna and Ty watched the warriors cross a small rise and angle back toward the cover of another dry wash. For long minutes after the Indians vanished, Ty lay unmoving. The weight of his body ensured that Janna stayed motionless, as well. Not until Zebra snorted, rubbed her muzzle against her knee and then resumed grazing did Ty release Janna. Even so, when he spoke to her, he laid his lips against her ear, and his voice was a mere thread of sound.

"Ready to go to the fort now?"

Janna turned until she could see his eyes, so close they all but filled her world.

"No," she said distinctly.

"You're a fool, Janna Wayland."

"Then so are you."

"I'm a man."

"You support my argument." she shot back in a fierce whisper.

Thunder broke and rumbled over the land.

"We should go as far as we can before the storm breaks," Ty said. "That way our tracks will be washed away before any wandering renegades can find us." He came to his feet, pulling Janna after him. "Get on Zebra. I'll ride behind you."

Janna swung up on the mare and looked back at Ty. He was shrugging on a big, heavy backpack stuffed with clothes, bedding and supplies. The carbine was strapped to the back of the pack, muzzle down, riding in what would have been a saddle holster if Ty had had a saddle; but he didn't. He was his own pack mule for the moment.

Ty handed Janna an oilskin slicker, jerked his new hat into place and swung up behind her, heavy backpack and all.

Fat, cold drops of rain began to fall.

"Put on the slicker," he said.

"What about you?"

"Put on the damned slicker!"

Janna shook out the drab, canvas-colored cloth, saw that it was no more than a tarpaulin with a slit for a man's head, and promptly widened the slit with her knife.

"What are you doing?" Ty demanded.

"Making it big enough for two. Hang on to your hat."

Janna turned around enough to pull the slicker over Ty's head. Facing forward again, she put her own head through the slit and tucked flapping folds beneath her legs. Ty's motions told her that he was doing the same thing, although while he did it, he was muttering a lot of words she preferred not to overhear.

When Janna settled into place to ride, she realized that she was sitting quite close to Ty. In fact, she couldn't have been sitting closer unless she had been on his lap rather than surrounded by it. She felt the rub of his thighs along hers, the small movements of his hips and the supple swaying of his torso as he adjusted his body to Zebra's stride. Janna was doing the same-rocking slightly, rubbing gently, swaying, cocooned in oilcloth and wrapped in warmth.

Once she got used to the novelty of being so close to Ty, she realized that it was deliciously warm and comfortable, except for the shivery sensations that uncurled along her nerve endings at odd moments when his hands brushed her thighs or his breath rushed over her neck. And even those unexpected quivers of heat within her body were-intriguing. With an unconscious sound of pleasure, she settled more deeply into the warmth and muscular resilience of Ty's body.

Ty set his teeth until his jaw ached, barely resisting the impulse to rip off the oilcloth and free himself from the innocent, incendiary rock and sway of Janna's body. The wind gusted, bringing cold splashes of sensation that only made the shared intimacy of the oilcloth more vivid.

After a time it began to rain in earnest, as though the descending sun had somehow freed the water drops from their cloud prisons. The oilcloth turned away much of the rain, but not all. Although it became increasingly damp beneath the poncho, neither Janna nor Ty suggested stopping, for there was no cover nearby worthy of mention. When lightning bolts became closer and more frequent, Janna said something that Ty couldn't catch. He bent forward, bringing his mouth against her ear.

"What?"

She turned toward him, so close that her warm breath washed over his lips. "Hang on."

The belling of thunder drowned out Ty's response, which was just as well. Instinctively his legs clamped around Zebra's barrel as the mare went from a walk to a gallop. The rhythmic rocking motion intensified the friction of Janna's body rubbing against Ty's. The resulting heat was a bittersweet pain. Each time the mare climbed a small rise, J anna's buttocks pressed mote snugly into his lap, stroking his aroused flesh. Each time the mare descended, he slid harder against Janna, their bodies separated by only a few folds of cloth, until he wanted nothing more than to imprison her hips in his hands and move with her until he burst.

"How much farther?" asked Ty through gritted teeth.

"Two miles."

Ty wondered if he would survive. He couldn't decide if the stimulation would have been easier to bear at half the pace and twice the time of suffering, or if twice the stimulation and half the time was indeed the easier course.