Free Tender Taming by Heather Graham Page A

emotions, all of which were veiled. What were those emotions, Whitney wondered. A dawning of respect along with something else?
    A shiver coursed through her. In the heart of her femininity she had finally read the blatant message of coolly controlled desire. White Eagle had been touched by the same inexplicable, electric attraction as she. He knew her fascination; he knew her fear and doubt.
    And he played a waiting game, on his own territory, where he was sure that he would win.
    Knowing the answer before she voiced the question, Whitney could not hide the waver in her tone as she demanded, “You never did tell me what you expect to get out of this bet.”
    “That’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” he drawled, and the current between them was almost visible in the air. “You.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    W HITNEY SAT HUNCHED UPON her rock, her arms wrapped tiredly around her knees, a single eye resting sorrowfully upon the hand that cradled her cheek. She had never known it was possible to achieve so many calluses in one day, and her nails—usually perfectly manicured and sporting the latest in fashion colors—were broken, chipped and split. She shifted slightly and soreness riddled her back. Groaning, she awkwardly tried to massage the pain.
    It wasn’t Eagle but Morning Dew who had proved to be her taskmaster. In one afternoon Whitney had learned that the life of an Indian woman was still rugged indeed. So far she had been called upon to wash clothes by hand, tend the garden of late summer vegetables, feed an assortment of domesticated animals, sew until her fingers could no longer hold a needle and pound upon a strange root until it became a powdery substance that would be used as flour.
    Not that Morning Dew hadn’t been kind. She had clucked in perfect English like a mother hen over Whitney and taken her under a competent wing. Immediately after Eagle had stated his terms, he had spun from her as if the interchange had never existed, spoken to his grandmother, then informed Whitney that he would see her later. When she had asked where he was going, he raised and wiggled a teasing brow. “Off to play Indian brave, of course.”
    Sunset was coming to the Everglades. As Whitney watched, the sky began to take on a myriad crimson and golden hues. The colors rippled and danced upon the calm, glassy sheet of the lake she sat before, creating a dazzling display. Numerous long-legged birds, trusting in her stillness, stood sentinel along the shore, forming silhouettes against the brilliant pink horizon. She realized her earlier words of bravado had not been a lie—visions of pure paradise lurked within the desolate hammocks of the deep woods.
    “Ooohhh …” she moaned again, trying to shift in order to ease the throbbing of newly discovered muscles.
    “Rough day, huh?”
    Whitney spun with a belligerent stare to see that Eagle was standing two feet behind her. Damn him! she muttered inwardly with irritation. His ability to come upon her totally undetected was most annoying.
    “Not at all,” she retorted nastily. “The washer didn’t clog up once and I didn’t have a bit of trouble at the grocery store.”
    Laughing, Eagle took a step and eradicated the distance between them. Before Whitney could protest, he had pushed her shoulders back and begun massaging her neck with strong fingers that brought a mixture of new torment and sweet, easing relief. Giving in to the overwhelming urge to relish the comfort brought by his powerful hands, Whitney sighed and allowed her head to rest again upon her hands.
    “Where have you been all day?” she demanded impertinently, determined that he not know how grateful she was for his soothing ministrations.
    “Oh, you know … hunting, fishing, warring with the cavalry,” he replied airily.
    “Very amusing,” Whitney snapped. His thumb worked into her collarbone and an unexpected surge of excitement spread through her bloodstream like hot mercury. She jerked with confusion, wondering