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and his gaze growing heated. She guessed he was imagining her there, unprotected and nude countless times in the mountain stream. |
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An answering molten feeling surged through her; she had to be careful, for in teasing him, she was affecting herself. The idea of his seeing her naked was enticing. What if . . . ? |
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Forget that. She couldn't let things go farther than teasing. Not here. Not now. |
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As she turned, she noticed their unkempt guest's eyes staring at her in confusion Fortunately, their references had probably gone right over his head. "Care for some more ale, Mr. Ambrose?" she asked sweetly. |
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"As Thorn knows, I never turn down an offer of a sweet libation." The old goat leered at her, and she frowned. |
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"And you, Mr. Thorn," she continued. "I suppose you could do with another drink." |
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"Yes, Mariah." His voice reeked with British civility, but there was a huskiness to it as well. "I would like . . . a drink." |
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Thorn wished for more than just a drink. That was the problem. "I will get more ale," he said, rising. Needing to move away. |
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He had seen Mariah at her bath, had suffered the sweet torment of glimpsing her lovely, slender body bared beneath the waterfall. |
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He had seen Holly, too, keeping watch. But she was no match for someone who had studied the skills of the Indians. |
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Thorn had left quickly, quietly. But the sight had burned itself into his mind. Had burned other places as well. |
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That had been the first, the only time Mariah had bathed at the falls. He kept watch on her. He would know. Still, his heartbeat quickened at the idea of more. |
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How could he bear Mariah to be so close, so untouchable? But to wish otherwise was foolhardy. She would never be his. |
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Yet he thought often of the kisses that had seared themselves into his senses. . . . |
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