Her third reaction was a repeat of her first.

"Your papa didn't do badly, either," Janna said finally. "Cascabel has killed more men than you have fingers and toes."

"Don't know about the toes," Ty said, smiling crookedly as he sat upright and examined his feet. The sight of the bandages made him look quickly at Janna.

"Oh, you've still got ten of them," she said. "A bit raw, but otherwise intact. It's going to hurt like the devil to walk on them, though."

Ty hissed softly through his teeth as he crossed his legs and sat Indian-style. "Don't have to wait until I walk. Hurts like hell right now."

Janna said nothing because her mouth had gone dry. When he had sat up and crossed his legs, the blanket had fallen away, revealing a broad, bloody chest and muscular torso. Crisp black hair swirled around his flat nipples, gathered in the center line of his body and curled down to his loins. There the hair became thick and lush as it fanned out, defining and emphasizing the essential difference between male and female.

Abruptly Janna looked away and forced herself to drag air into her aching lungs, wondering if she were going to faint.

Why am I being such a goose? she asked herself fiercely. I've seen naked men before.

But somehow cowboys washing off in lonely water holes and dancing Indians wearing little more than strings and flapping squares of cloth weren't the same as the powerful man sitting naked and unconcerned just a few feet away from her.

"Hey, kid," Ty said softly. "You sure you're all right? You look kind of pale."

Janna swallowed hard, twice. "I'm fine," she said huskily. "And my name is… Jan, not 'kid.'"

"Jan, huh?" Ty said, unwrapping his right foot carefully. "My mother's father was called Jan. He was a big Swede with a laugh you could hear in the next county. Mama used to say I took after him."