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“Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked five miles later.
“In places I’m sure you have never been, General,” she sassed.
“Obviously not. Where I come from, ladies don’t brawl. I have already determined—the hard way—that you’re no lady. Furthermore, I’m not a general. I’m the commandant at Fort Reno. Major Rafe Hunter.”
She twisted in the saddle to flash him a smirk. “You’re from back East, right? Uppity accent. Imperious demeanor. Wealth and pedigree, no doubt. Don’t you have better things to do than sneak around, assaulting defenseless women?”
“Defenseless?” he hooted. “I can think of a dozen adjectives to describe you, but defenseless isn’t on the list.”
She fell silent as they approached the post, and Rafe made no further attempt to pry information from her. It rankled that she poked fun at the privileged background he had spent years trying to overcome. He had prided himself on becoming his own man rather than flitting by on the laurels accorded to him by the illustrious Hunter family name. Rafe had worked damn hard to prove himself capable and responsible to assume command of this military fort. But in one fell swoop, and in a few choice words, this sassy hellion implied that his personal accomplishments were the result of his family pulling strings to land him this position.
When Rafe halted at the hitching post in front of officers’ quarters, Micah was leaning negligently against the doorjamb. Micah’s astute gaze drifted over the female captive then focused on Rafe’s disheveled appearance. The hint of a smile quirked his lips as he pushed away from the door to assist the captive from the horse.
“Met with trouble, did you?” Micah questioned as he set the woman on her feet then clamped an arm around her elbow.
Rafe watched in amazement as the hellcat—who had tried to claw him to shreds—turned a radiant smile on Micah. “If that question was directed to me, sir, then the answer is yes. I would like to press charges against your commanding officer for molestation and assault.”
Rafe nearly choked when the woman mimicked his Eastern accent and projected an air of ladylike dignity. When Micah’s befuddled gaze bounced back and forth between Rafe and the woman, he had the impulsive urge to spout his denial of her outrageous accusations.
“Well?” the woman prompted haughtily. “Don’t I have the right to protest such ill treatment, just because Rafe Hunter is the commandant of this fort?”
“I…uh…” Micah stammered, his blue-eyed gaze leaping from one mud-covered face to the other.
“Come along, miss,” Rafe muttered as he towed her into the foyer of officers’ quarters. “Captain Micah Whitfield is second in command and he’s a longtime friend of mine. Your ploy won’t work on him.” He hoped.
To Micah he said, “She’s the one who set up the campfire that we detected before you led the patrol back to the fort.”
Micah’s eyes widened as he reassessed the woman in muddy breeches, faded shirt and patched jacket. “You were out there alone?” he asked incredulously.
She turned pleading green eyes on Micah, graced him with that feigned-innocent smile and began her spiel about traveling cross-country to rejoin her family and how she had resorted to wearing men’s clothes to protect herself from lecherous men—like the post commander.
Rafe barked a laugh. He didn’t believe this feisty little con artist for a minute. He had seen her fight like the very devil and then he had watched her turn on the charm for Micah’s benefit.
“That is more than enough,” Rafe interrupted her long-winded explanation. “Don’t waste your breath. Micah isn’t as gullible as he looks.”
Whoever this woman was, it was glaringly apparent that she was adept at living by her wits and she would say anything in an attempt to talk her way out of trouble.
Rafe grabbed the woman’s arm, wheeled toward the door, then halted in his tracks. As much as he would like to stuff this feisty female in the stockade that was bulging with men, he couldn’t. If she antagonized any of them the way she had smarted off to him they would collectively strangle her. Either that or she would find herself molested repeatedly before the guards could reach her. He really had no choice but to lock her in his quarters for the night and bunk with Micah.
“I’ll keep her in my room,” he announced as he reversed direction.
Micah’s dark brows shot up.
The woman refused to budge from the spot. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Well, good, thought Rafe. It was about time this mouthy hellion showed him some wary respect.
Rafe uprooted the woman and herded her into his tidy quarters. He slammed the door shut then positioned a chair under the doorknob to make sure she didn’t escape while he wasn’t here to stop her. With Micah hot on his heels, Rafe walked back outside to lead his weary mount to the stables.
“You gonna explain what is going on or just leave it to my vivid imagination?” Micah teased as he fell into step beside Rafe.
“That female is a chameleon,” Rafe declared. “She might have been charming to you, but she fought like a cornered Apache when I apprehended her. I’ve encountered less resistance and more respect from the men we’ve taken into custody. I was kicked, bitten and clawed repeatedly.”
“So I see.” Micah chuckled in amusement as he appraised Rafe’s frazzled appearance. “Makes me wish I had insisted on going with you. I’d like to have witnessed that battle.”
“It wasn’t a pretty sight.” Rafe’s stomach growled, reminding him that it was long past supper. “I tried to remind myself that I was brawling with a woman, but it wasn’t easy when she fought like a man.”
“I like a woman with spunk and spirit,” Micah said, blue eyes twinkling.
“You’re welcome to her,” Rafe shot back. “I’m accustomed to a woman who behaves like a lady.”
“Like your fiancée? Ah, yes, the poised and dignified Vanessa Payton. Ask me, that will be a dull marriage indeed.”
“Marriage is part of my obligation to my family,” Rafe reminded him with a casual shrug. “You know perfectly well that I’m devoted to my position here. The army is my life.”
“Which is obviously why you allowed your grandfather, the general, and your father, also a general, to arrange this marriage. As I recall, you’ve only met the lovely Vanessa twice. How can you possibly know if you’ll suit?”
“That’s just the way it’s done in my family,” Rafe replied as he led Sergeant into the stall to remove the saddle.
“Being a half-breed, raised among the Choctaw tribe, I was taught to believe that a man and woman should have a certain affection for each other when they marry. You have heard the word love before, haven’t you, my friend?” Micah taunted.
“Heard of it,” Rafe agreed as he grabbed a brush to tend his prize gelding. “Never associated it with marriage, however. My grandparents’ marriages were arranged, as were my parents, as mine has been. It’s no different than accepting an assignment with the army. You take what you are given and you make the best of it.”
“And my parents, though they hailed from drastically different cultures and contrasting civilizations, defied it all because they loved each other,” Micah maintained then grinned teasingly. “All I can say is that you whites have a strange way of looking at things. And some say Indians are heathens,” he added with a smirk. “Ask me, it’s the other way around.”
“Be that as it may,” Rafe said as he rewarded Sergeant with a bucket of grain, “I agreed to marry Vanessa when the Land Run is over and business in this territory is functioning smoothly.”
He pivoted to shoulder his way past Micah, who was leaning leisurely against the top rail of the stall. “In the meantime, I have to focus my time and efforts on protecting the Unassigned Lands against settler intrusion and attempt to maintain law and order.”
Micah shrugged as he followed Rafe from the stables. “Whatever you say, Major Hunter, but I still contend there is life beyond the military. After I served with the Choctaw light-horsemen to police the territory and guarantee my credentials, I joined the army so I wouldn’t be stuck on the reservation like my mother’s people. I’m not married to the army. When the right woman comes along, I intend to marry for love, not because her name will sound good when it’s linked to mine. That, I assure you, will be my very last consideration.”
Honestly, Rafe sometimes wondered how he and Micah had formed such a strong, lasting friendship when they came from such different walks of life. Maybe the truth was that Rafe envied Micah’s laid-back manner and his philosophies that were steeped in Indian beliefs.
In the early years of their friendship they had relied on each other’s knowledge and backgrounds to broaden their horizons and make them well-rounded soldiers. Now they were as close as brothers and had saved each other’s hide several times during harrowing campaigns against the hostile Plains Indians who had escaped from the reservations in New Mexico.
“Let me know if you need help dealing with your latest prisoner,” Micah commented as he veered toward his quarters.
Rafe snorted at the reminder of the upcoming encounter with the red-haired firebrand who was occupying his room. Now there was a woman he could never love—if there was such a thing as love.
Indeed, Micah was welcome to the smart-mouthed little witch. Rafe preferred to associate with women who allowed him to behave like the gentleman his family had groomed him to be. It didn’t sit well to know that he had tackled a woman, straddled her hips and held her underwater until she practically drowned, just to make her surrender.
Rafe smiled in reluctant admiration when he recalled how that belligerent hellion had refused to accept defeat, despite the odds against her. She had more spunk and spirit than most men he knew.
Exasperated, Karissa Baxter paced Commander Hunter’s living quarters. It irked her that the bedroom and sitting room were neat as pins. Everything was in its proper place—lined up like soldiers on parade.
Most of the men she had encountered in her twenty-six years never bothered to pick up after themselves. Her father certainly hadn’t and neither did her younger brother, Clint. She had taken care of him since he was six years old and she had tried to become the mother they had lost to typhoid. Because she felt sorry for Clint, she had pampered him.
Karissa halted beside the window when the regimental band stuck up a lively tune. There was no way she could escape through the window, not with so many soldiers milling around the place. She had already tried the door and found it had been secured from outside. The commander had taken extra precautions because she had made the mistake of letting him know she wasn’t beneath doing whatever necessary to escape.
Karissa sighed audibly and resumed her pacing, serenaded by the regimental band. How long was she going to be detained at the fort? Probably until His Highness decreed that she could leave. And if Rafe Almighty Hunter thought for one minute that she was going to provide him with sexual satisfaction while she was under arrest then he had another think coming!
She had learned long ago to size up men and situations quickly and she could think of only one reason Rafe insisted that she would stay in his private quarters. For all his refined good looks and prestigious position at the fort, he was still a man, she reminded herself cynically.
The thought caused her to break stride. She was a woman who had learned to stand up for herself and depend on no one but herself. She had also learned to take advantage of situations, to survive as best she could. If Rafe Hunter had in mind to take her to bed while she was under arrest then she was damn well going to make it worth her while.
In short, one favor exchanged for another. If she was forced to give up her innocence then, by damned, she was going to profit from it.
She would negotiate with that dignified commander who ruled this roost. One night in his bed for her freedom. That was the deal. He was not getting something that intimate and personal from her for nothing!
She was determined to quit this place and return to the new territory to protect the land she wanted to claim. Yet, the prospect of surrendering to the lusty desires of a man unsettled her. Karissa had spent years mastering the art of discouraging men from approaching her with amorous intentions. Never once had she tried to attract a man’s attention. Who would have thought that she would be standing here wishing she had the skills of an accomplished courtesan?
Karissa laughed at the absurdity of the thought, but she didn’t laugh for long. She had made a pact with herself to do whatever it took for her and her brother to make a fresh new start in the newly created Oklahoma Territory. After being dragged along behind her father from one saloon to another in every cow town in Kansas, she asked for nothing more than to put down roots and have a home.
She was sick to death of the gypsy lifestyle her father had forced on her and Clint. Sick to death of being referred to as the gambler’s brats and treated like pariahs by the so-called respectable members of local society.
Having been soured by proper society’s condescension, it was little wonder that she had felt instant hostility toward the fort commander. In her mind he represented the establishment that had treated her shabbily for years on end. Yet, despite his position of authority, despite his mud-caked eyebrows and eyelashes, despite smudges of slime on his chin and cheeks, he was still the most strikingly attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.
He stood six feet four inches tall and had to weigh more than two hundred pounds—she should know since he had nearly squashed her flat while he sat on her to hold her down in the creek. His eyes were the color of hammered steel. His shoulders were noticeably broad and his long legs were solid muscles—she knew that, too, because she had been pressed flush against him during the ride to the garrison.
Although she definitely disliked Rafe on general principle, there was no denying that he could turn a woman’s head. Even Karissa’s.
“Obviously, he held you under water so long that it turned your brain to bog,” Karissa muttered at herself.
When the doorknob rattled, Karissa spun around and mentally prepared herself. She struck a saucy pose, imitating dozens of dance-hall queens who called attention to themselves to entice drunken cowboys to private rooms, in exchange for cash.
Rafe Hunter whizzed into the room and halted abruptly. He snapped back his raven head, drew himself up to full stature and stared down his patrician nose at her. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, it won’t work,” he said stiffly. “Do you really expect to pull off that come-hither look, while standing there in mud-covered men’s clothes?”
Despite his unflattering remark, Karissa marshaled her courage and unfastened the top two buttons on her shirt. Sure enough, those steel-gray eyes dropped to her chest. Typical man, she thought bitterly. He might be standing there spouting indignantly, but like the rest of his kind, his brains were located beneath his belt buckle. No matter how aloof and dignified the commander believed himself to be, she suspected that he, too, was a slave to his insatiable passions.
“I plan to be standing here wearing nothing but a smile,” she purred as she unfastened another button on her shirt. “You really aren’t planning to complain about that, are you, General?”
To her amused satisfaction, his Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly and his gaze focused on her bosom. Now, if she could keep him preoccupied with the prospect of taking a tumble in his bed, she might be able to catch him unawares, elude him and make her getaway on the nearest horse.
It was definitely worth a try, she decided as she sauntered provocatively toward him and flashed him an inviting smile.
Chapter Two
“B ehave yourself,” Rafe demanded, though the flicker in his eyes indicated that he wasn’t averse to seeing a bit more feminine skin.
Karissa halted a few feet away from him and struck what she hoped was another irresistible pose. “My dear general, you know perfectly well that I have a penchant for misbehaving,” she said in the most seductive voice she could muster. “I have a proposition for you.”
She slid her hands up and over his massive shoulders and felt him tense beneath her fingertips. It gave her an odd sense of power and satisfaction to realize this distinguished military officer was leery yet exceptionally aware of her as a woman.
Damn, if she didn’t like knowing that he wasn’t sure what to expect from her next and that he was fascinated, in spite of himself.
“What kind of proposition?” he croaked. His eyes dipped to her bosom then he quickly jerked those rainstorm-colored eyes back to her smudged face.
“I think you know what I’m suggesting.” She glided her fingers through his raven hair then inclined her head toward his bed. “You won’t have a fight on your hands this time…provided you meet my terms.”
His dark brows snapped together as he stared down at her. “Am I to understand that you’re offering to sleep with me if I agree to release you in the morning?”
His disapproving frown threatened to rattle her composure. She had been certain that any man, even the commander, would succumb to his lusty desires when opportunity presented itself. Men rarely saw past the moment. She, on the other hand, was prepared to do whatever necessary for her release so she could secure her dream of a home in the newly established territory.
Wasn’t it just her luck that she had encountered a man who was apparently the exception to the rules she thought applied to all men?
Chin held high, she stepped back to look down her nose at him—even if he was a good foot taller than she was. “Oh, come now, General, surely you didn’t think I’d let you waltz in here and take me to bed without bartering for my freedom.”
He jerked back as if she had slapped him. “I have no intention of taking you to bed,” he declared.
“You didn’t put me under arrest in your room so you could take advantage of me?” Karissa smirked at him. “You really expect me to believe that? Just how stupid do I look?”
“You don’t look the least bit stupid. During our brawl in the creek, I discovered that you’re as wily as a fox. And I did expect you to believe that I was trying to show you a modicum of courtesy and consideration,” he snapped as he veered around her to gather fresh clothing from his trunk.
“I couldn’t very well put you in a stockade that is teeming with men. Therefore, I brought you here for your own protection. Though why I bothered, after that little performance, I’m sure I don’t know.” He did an abrupt about-face and glared at her. “I plan to bunk in Micah’s quarters for the night.”
Karissa’s jaw sagged in amazement. She had totally misinterpreted the commander’s intentions and she had come off looking like a trollop. Despite what he thought, she was the farthest thing from a woman who made her living on her back.
“I’m posting a guard outside the window and one outside the door,” he informed her briskly. “You’ll stay here until you promise me that you will not sneak back into the territory before the Run.”
“I promise,” she said swiftly. “May I leave now?”
Rafe halted beside her. A sardonic smile touched the corners of his sensuous mouth. “You might find this astonishing, but I don’t trust you.”
“I gave you my promise,” she sassed him. “That’s all you asked for.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him defiantly. “Some commander you are, General, if you change your mind every other minute.”
“Well, this decision stands,” he said with brusque finality. “You’ll be here indefinitely. It’s the only way to guarantee your safety and I can think of nothing worse than a woman so belligerent and contrary that she refuses to admit to her own vulnerability on the frontier. Furthermore, I want to be certain that you won’t break the law I’m sworn to uphold.”
Karissa scowled at him. “I’m finding that I like honorable men less than I like the dishonorable ones. It’s impossible to deal with men in general, General.”
“Stop calling me General and fasten your shirt,” he muttered at her. “Maybe when you start behaving like a lady I’ll reconsider.” He opened the door then shot her a stony stare. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to treat the injuries you inflicted on me. Sleep well, spitfire.”
“Karissa. My name is Karissa,” she said, striking a proud, dignified pose—just to prove to him she could be dignified if she felt like it. “Karissa Baxter from Kansas.”
“I will see that you have a supper tray delivered, Karissa from Kansas,” he replied in that aloof, authoritative tone that made her grit her teeth in annoyance. “Good night.”
When the door shut behind him, Karissa pulled a face. She definitely did not like that man. Too much spit and polish. Too much blue blood spurting through his veins. He obviously stuck to rules and regulations like flies stuck in molasses. If he had flown through life by the seat of his breeches, as she had, he would be considerably more sympathetic and understanding of her plight. But there was no sense wasting her breath, explaining her situation. Commander Rafe Hunter wouldn’t think of breaking his precious rules, much less bending one because of her.
Karissa flounced on the foot of the bed. If she gave a damn what that handsome soldier thought of her she would be depressed right now. But she didn’t have the time or inclination to wallow in unproductive emotions. She was on a crusade to insure her brother’s future in this new territory and she was spinning her wheels in house arrest.
She glanced speculatively toward the window and decided to make her escape after her supper had been delivered. She couldn’t plan her next move while her empty stomach was growling so loudly that she couldn’t think.
When a quiet rap rattled the door, Karissa pivoted and braced herself for another encounter with the fort commander. To her relief, Micah Whitfield poked his dark head around the door and smiled in greeting. His stunning blue eyes glistened with amusement as he directed her attention to the tray of food he carried in one hand.
“According to Rafe, a man can get his hand bitten off when he wanders too close to you. I brought supper so you will have something to chew on besides me.”
Karissa chuckled as Micah made a big production of cautiously circling around her to set the tray on the table. This brawny soldier, who was obviously of mixed heritage, had a knack of putting her at ease, even when she was conditioned to keeping up her guard around all men.
“You can relax, Captain,” she assured him as she walked over to pick up the slice of buttered bread. “I only bite and claw when physically attacked. You seem reasonably harmless.”
Micah laughed. “I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, but I have the reputation of being a hard-bitten, relentless scout and soldier.” He grinned teasingly and said, “Of course, thanks to you, Rafe is the one who’s hard-bitten.”
