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question. Finally he glanced toward her. "No."
    "Why not? You're very nice-looking. Aren't Indian girls equally attractive?"
    "Yes, many are very beautiful, but I'm seldom home, and sweethearts need a great deal of attention, or they become unhappy and begin to look for someone else to love."
    Surprised that he understood how greatly women appreciated a man's attentive company, Melissa relaxed slightly. "Did you lose a sweetheart to another brave?"
    Hunter eyed the charming girl with a suggestive glance. "Only one, and I don't miss her."
    Melissa had always felt her ability to flirt was as natural a gift as her beauty, but she had never before met a man who could answer her teasing questions in a more provocation fashion than she had asked them. Hunter did it with such masterful ease, she could not help but wonder what it would be like to take flirting another step and kiss him. Such a prospect shocked her for only a few seconds, and then she realized Hunter would soon be leaving with her brothers and probably not return for several months, if ever.
    What difference would it make if she kissed him a time or two? No one would ever know, and it would be such a delicious secret. She smiled, and spoke with well-practiced innocence. "I can't believe that she doesn't miss you."
    Hunter stared straight at Melissa. "Will you miss me?"
    His dark eyes promised that she most definitely would, and lost in his seductive gaze, Melissa forgot everything she had been carefully taught to remember. Rather than an Indian brave, she saw only a dashing young man who excited her senses as no proper gentleman, colonial or English, had ever done. Without a conscious thought, she drew her mare to a halt.
    Hunter did not need any further urging to also stop his mount. He reached out to cup Melissa's chin in his palm, then leaned over and kissed her. Her lips were very soft, her taste sweet, and one kiss was not nearly enough. They exchanged half a dozen before she drew away.
    Suddenly recalling that they were in the middle of a public road, Melissa gasped sharply and turned to look for a more private spot. A convenient stand of cottonwood trees beckoned invitingly, and she knew without having to ask that Hunter would follow her when she urged her mare toward them. The grass was thick here, the shade deep, and when Hunter grasped her around the waist to pull her from her saddle, she went into his arms more than willingly.
    Another six kisses and Melissa and Hunter lay in the grass in a tangled embrace. She felt the Indian's hands moving over her, gently tracing the contours of her lush figure as no white man had ever dared attempt. When his fingertips circled her breast, she knew she ought to be outraged by his touch, but it was far too thrilling to inspire even a murmur of complaint. She raised her arms to encircle his neck, and when she loosened the leather thong with which he tied his hair, his gleaming black mane spilled over them like ebony rain. Warmed by the sun, it formed an erotic curtain that shut out the light and instantly plunged them into the dark world of dreams.
    Melissa had never been kissed with such devouring grace, and each time Hunter's tongue caressed hers, she felt more a part of him. She slid her hands along his broad shoulders and down his spine to caress his muscular back. She wondered again if his dark skin was decorated with tattoos. In a silent response to her unspoken question, he pulled his shirt off over his head, and she saw that his golden brown skin was unmarked by any design or flaw. As his lips again found hers, she tasted the answer to all her questions in his kiss, and ceased to think at all.
    Hunter had had no intention of stopping with kisses, when Melissa's response was so passionate. He wanted so much more, but the sound of approaching riders jarred them both from their romantic reverie. Hunter placed a fingertip on Melissa's kiss-swollen lips to keep her still, before glancing over his shoulder toward the