thwarting male advances that were designed to court her inheritance, not her personally. Somehow she had managed to convince herself that being married to Crow granted her the right to touch him and kiss him anytime she wanted.
It wasn’t that she was putting on an act to convince everyone she had feelings for Crow. She did have tender feelings for him. She had seen him at his best and worst and she had witnessed his every mood. She swore that, after only a week, she knew him better than she knew her male acquaintances in New Orleans after a year.
“We will leave you alone after the meal so you can join with your husband,” Chulosa said as he reached for a slice of the juicy meat.
Natalie’s face flushed with heat but she told herself it was her own fault after kissing Crow in front of his friends. Not that she hadn’t entertained a dozen thoughts of doing more than sleeping beside Crow. She certainly had. Not to mention that consummating their marriage might make it more difficult for Marsh and Kimball—wherever those two bastards were—to dissolve this union.
However, she had made advances toward Van before the Comanche braves arrived and he had held her at bay and questioned her motives. Her pride was still smarting about that. She never dreamed men turned down sexual gratification, even if they weren’t wildly attracted to a woman.
An hour later, the braves made themselves scarce and Crow folded his hand around hers to lead her toward the supplies stacked beside the tethered horses.
“We’re going to erect a tent for privacy,” he announced. “You need to know how, in case you’re in the wilds and a thunderstorm blows in.”
Natalie followed his instructions while he showed her how to drape the oversize tarp over a tree limb and then stake down the corners to shield her from the rain.
“It’s better than packing a tent that has braces and stakes that you have to repack when you break camp,” Crow assured her. “It’s important to make use of what is available and travel light so you can break camp and move quickly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured before she used the blunt side of his ax to drive in makeshift stakes.
When Van strode off to fetch their pallet, Natalie glanced up at the dome of stars forming overhead. She wondered how she had survived so long in a crowded city. She might still be a greenhorn with a lot to learn but she had a great appreciation for the outdoors. She wasn’t sure she could tolerate confinement again.
The thought made her wince, knowing how daunting it must be for Indian tribes, who had lost their freedom and had been forced to give up sacred ground and their customs to live in the white man’s world. Slavery of any kind tormented the soul.
When Crow rejoined her inside the improvised tent, nervousness flittered through her body. They hadn’t been alone since she had tried to turn their survival lesson into a seduction—which assured her that she also had a lot to learn in that department, too.
She watched Crow perform his nightly ritual of removing his boot pistol, the derringer inside the waistband of his breeches, a six-shooter and the bowie knife strapped to his ankle. Amusement overrode her unease.
“I swear you carry more hardware than a traveling salesman,” she teased, hoping to break the tension.
“We are going to equip you the same way when we reach Taloga Springs,” he insisted. “My motto is to be heavily armed and prepared for everything.”
“Can’t wait,” she enthused. “I—”
Without warning, Crow clamped his hand over her mouth. She could feel the tautness in his body. Now what? she thought.
“Stay out of sight,” he whispered while he reclaimed all his weapons—including the pistol he’d given to her earlier.
She blinked in surprise when he slithered beneath the back edge of the tarp that was butted up against the tree trunk. Her attention shifted to the sound of galloping horses and the shouted command for the two Comanche warriors to throw down their rifles.
Despite Crow’s order to stay inside, Natalie tucked her two-shot derringer in the band of her breeches and crawled outside, bounding to her feet. Campfire light reflected off the three rifle barrels that swerved toward her while she surveyed the ragtag riders. They were dressed in the same fashion as cowboys—or outlaws, it was hard to say which. Sombreros covered their heads and bristly whiskers lined their jaws.
She assumed Crow had crept