Forbidden Moon by Jane Bonander

Author:Jane Bonander
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Western
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-11-20T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Toward evening, they came across a pool of fresh water. There were many, dotted here and there over the plains, short-lived remnants of the rainstorm. They wouldn’t last long. By the next day, most would have evaporated. Buck suggested they stop so they both could clean up.

While he left her to look for something with which to build a fire, she stripped and lay her muddy skirt out to dry. After rinsing out her underwear, she washed her hair, using a small chip of soap Buck had produced from his saddlebags. With only one good hand, nothing was going to get very clean, but anything was an improvement.

It wasn’t possible to wring the water from her underwear; her wrist still throbbed and she had no strength in it. She still had no power to grip in those fingers. She was twisting and pressing the moisture from her torn drawers against her thigh with her good hand when she heard Buck come up behind her. Though he could only see her back, she felt herself flush.

“Having a little trouble?”

Her elbows automatically came together to cover the sides of her breasts as she glanced at him over her shoulder. He had his shirt off and shoved it toward her. He’d obviously found a similar pond, because his hair was wet and his face and torso clean of mud and dust. “Here, put this on.”

She let her gaze fall briefly to the hard ridges of his stomach and the hair circling his navel before she grabbed the shirt and slid into it. Taking a deep, dizzying breath, she managed to thank him.

“I … I can’t seem to wring the water from my things. My wrist still hurts too much.”

He pulled her camisole and drawers from the pool and twisted them repeatedly until they were just damp. After shaking them out, he laid them on the ground near the fire.

His shirt was big and long, and it hung to her knees, despite the fact that he’d ripped a strip off the tail to use on her wrist. It was anything but clean, but she found strange comfort in wearing it. She slipped the buttons through the buttonholes with difficulty. “I guess I could put on my underwear, anyway. At least they’re cleaner than they were.”

Shaking his head, he answered, “That’s foolish. They’ll be dry by morning.”

He turned and squatted over the fire, her gaze following. As he nursed the small flame that tried desperately to peter out into a puff of damp smoke, she studied him. Muscles bunched over the wide expanse of his back. Hair, black as pitch yet wavy from the moist air curled to his shoulders. His jeans hung low as he hunkered near the fire, dropping into a V at the small of his back. His skin was lighter there. The mystery of what lay beyond gave her the shivers.

Drawing in another deep breath, she crossed to his saddlebags and rummaged around for her brush. Finding it, she sat down on the rubber-coated blanket and started pulling the tangles from her wet hair.

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