“No?” He chuckled. “Then why have your blue eyes turned black—sweetheart?”
She gave him a murderous look, crossing her arms over her breasts. His smile widened. He liked the way that posture crushed and lifted her bosom. She grew crimson. “How you could possibly think that I am jealous of some squaw …” she sputtered.
His laughter died.
“I’ve never been jealous a day in my life,” Candice lied furiously, “and certainly not of some squaw!”
A long silence followed her statement, and when Jack finally spoke, his voice was very low and controlled. “How many prejudiced bones are there, Miss Candice,” he said, “in that deceivingly beautiful body of yours?”
“Why shouldn’t I be prejudiced?” She snapped. “Apaches are savages—they rape and kill and scalp women and children.”
“Apaches don’t harm women or children.”
“No?” She taunted. “No, Jack? I suppose you’re going to tell me that Hayilkah didn’tharmme?”
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. “What?”
“You heard!”
He pulled her very close. “I know Hayilkah didn’t rape you—so just what are you accusing him of?”
She grew red and flustered. His eyes pinned her, his body tensed with foreboding.
“He did rape me,” Candice cried out. “But it was with his hands!”
Jack seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing.
“He was only examining you.”
Candice laughed again, a hard, brittle sound. “He was getting pleasure, and you can’t tell me he wasn’t—not when he spilled his seed all over my thighs.”
Jack didn’t move, or even breathe, for a beat. He could very vividly picture Hayilkah with his fingers in Candice, then losing control and coming. The anger he felt was so deep it was completely calm and quiet. He realized Candice was triumphant and waiting for his reaction. He also realized that one day he would kill Hayilkah, and he turned to her slowly. “He’s not the first man to lose control around you, is he, Candice?” His words were soft and mocking, the innuendo clear.
She flushed. “You’re a savage just like they are, aren’t you, Jack?” She spit the words at him. “When you capture a white woman, is that how youexamineher too?”
There was no point in answering her. “Let’s go,” he said. “You’re going to help Luz with the meal.”
“Did you examine me when you found me—when I was unconscious?” she persisted.
“I saved your ungrateful neck, and you know it.”
“You kissed me in the barn!” It was an accusation. Tears filled her eyes.
“I guess I’m human after all,” he said bitterly. He felt a terrible defeat—how could he have thought for an instant that she was jealous? He supposed she was used to being the sole object of a man’s attentions, that her pride was piqued—hadn’t she as much as said so? And why in hell did he care what she thought—why in hell did he want her goddamn approval so much?
She wouldn’t stop. “How many white women have you captured, Jack? Captured and forced? Or am I the only one?”
“You enjoyed that kiss.”
“No, I didn’t!”
They stared at each other.
“I saw it with my own eyes once,” Candice said. “A scalped little boy who couldn’t have been more than ten years old. How much proof do I have to throw in your face before you admit what you are?”
“What I am is a man,” he said tersely. “And maybe if you didn’t sashay around me like you do, it wouldn’t have happened. You can lie to me and you can lie to yourself, but we both know the truth is that you’ve been itching for me to kiss you since the day you first laid eyes on me.”
“That’snottrue!”
