Lone Wolf stiffened at her words. No white man would take his scalp. Soon, he would leave this place.
 

She was behind him now and he could not see her as she spoke. “I wish I knew where you came from. I wonder if you’re married.” The words whispered across his flesh. “Hopefully you’re not. Surely, I wouldn’t have fantasy dreams about a married man. Of course, I suppose most women would fantasize about a man like you with all these muscles. Too bad you’re injured.” Her soft touch drifted across his shoulder and tense muscles contracted. He had to bite back a groan. Did this woman think he was made of stone? His shaft felt as heavy as a boulder, beneath his clout.
 

Lone Wolf did not understand this white woman. In one sentence, she spoke of taking his scalp and in the next, desire for him. At times, she appeared to want him but in the next instant, she seemed to fear him. He supposed it was his Indian blood she feared. He had not meant to frighten her but her obvious fear of him had aroused fierce anger. He had done nothing to frighten her yet his savage blood had her hesitating to touch him. Doubt clouded his mind, would she hesitate if he were white?
 

He must have been unconscious longer than he thought or possibly his injury was not as severe as he had believed. It did not matter, as soon as he was well enough he would be leaving. His people needed him. He worried at what he would find when he returned. His last memory of his people was of many fallen bodies, too many fallen bodies. Bear Claw had survived though, he was certain. Bear Claw would help the people until he could return.
 

Ta-rah moved into his line of vision as she returned to the sink and his gaze followed her. The tight pants she wore exposed the generous curve of her bottom and thighs. He thought they were in a shape to be pleasing to a man. His mind turned to carnal thoughts about his caregiver. He was pleased she fantasized about him, as well. By her words, it appeared she only hesitated because of his injury.
 

Soon, she would realize he had amazing recuperating abilities, even more so than usual. He may not be at his very best but already his loins were demanding release. He’d been without the warmth of a woman in his hides for several weeks, having just returned from a long, scouting trip the evening before his village fell under attack.
 

At the thought of his village, he hardened his heart to her again. It was because of her people that he was injured and his village was in shambles. It was not difficult to realize feelings for this white woman were wrong but he could not deny the desire he felt for her. She fired his blood as no other ever had.
 

She stood in front of him once again, gazing at him with her soulful eyes. She leaned forward to brush his hair out of her way. Her fingers grazed a trail of heat across his shoulder. He longed to pull her into his arms and explore her bare flesh as she explored his.
 

“It’s kind of funny. You sit here so stoic as I wash your body. Most men would enjoy this but I get the feeling you think you’re doing me a favor but I don’t mind.”
 

Her laugher floated over him as her scent once again greeted his senses. The flowery fragrance overpowered by the scent of aroused woman. His eyes dropped to the juncture of her thighs. He wanted to lean forward and inhale her feminine aroma.
 

His gaze smoldered at her words and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips but he managed to control it before she noticed.
 

Tara washed across his shoulder to his neck. As she ran the cloth over his throat, he swallowed, her touch was arousing and he had to grit his teeth to control his reaction. He did not want this white woman to know the effect her touch had upon him. He could show her no weakness.
 

Continuing on, she washed the dust and splattering of blood from his chest. When she noticed the scars on his chest, she moved closer to him. With one hand, she traced the faint scars. Her tender touch moved him deeply and he struggled to control his reaction.
 

“Great goddess, I heard of the sun dance ritual but I thought that went out of style generations ago. How barbaric.”
 

She perched between his splayed thighs. He wanted to remove his clout and offer her the aroused shaft. He could imagine wrapping his hands in her hair of fire as her lips parted over his distended flesh. He could not stop the shudder that shook his frame.