Hannah Howell by Stolen Ecstasy Page B

all the privacy I can allow, Leanne.”
    She fumed for only a moment. Although she knew it was probably unwise to trust him, the lure of a hot bath was too strong to resist. She turned her back to him and began to undress.
    What really troubled her as she shed her clothes and hastily stepped into the tub was the overwhelming urge she felt to look at him. It was shocking. It was also alarming.
    A plump Mexican woman stepped into the alcove, disrupting Leanne’s thoughts and causing her to sink down into the water.
    “I will take your clothes to freshen them, sí ?”
    “Yeah, thanks, Rita,” Hunter replied as he started to soap his foot. “They’re in sore need of it.”
    “ Sí . Then I come back and help the niña with her hair.”
    “ Niña?” Leanne muttered as the woman left.
    “Doesn’t that mean baby or something?”
    “Child.”
    “That’s not much better. I’m no child.”
    “Oh, I know that.”
    “Hunter,” she squeaked, “you said you would keep your back turned and not look.”
    “I’m not looking. Just remembering.”
    Leanne was certain she was blushing from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She decided not to talk to him. Sitting naked in a tub, with Hunter doing the same not far away, made it difficult to find her usual sharpness of tongue. He would have the advantage if she tried to exchange quips with him now.
    When the woman returned to help her wash her hair, Leanne found she was glad of the assistance. Without the tools she was familiar with, washing her hair in the bath suddenly became difficult. The only thing she did not like was the way Rita and Hunter chatted so amiably, Rita often looking toward him. She was glad when the woman left.
    Their clothes were fresher, but also a little damp when they finally left the tubs to get dressed. The dampness was not really uncomfortable, since the day was so warm, but it reminded Leanne of something else she needed. If Hunter was going to supply her with some extra clothes, he could also supply her with some underthings.
    It was not until she stood patiently in the store while Hunter plunked an assortment of hats on her head that she got up the courage to say, “There’s something else I could use.”
    “Nothing frivolous. We can only take so much with us. I’m beginning to think your head shrunk in the wash,” he muttered.
    Ignoring that, she pressed on. “I do not consider this request frivolous.”
    “Well? What is it then?”
    She felt herself blush and mumbled, “Some underthings.” When he grinned, she nearly kicked him. “I saw some over there.”
    Glancing where she pointed, he saw, discreetly tucked away in a corner, all the frilly accoutrements women wore beneath their dresses. She was right. She needed some underclothes. But he was not sure they were the sort that would be useful or, more important, comfortable. As he adjusted the latest hat he had set on her head, deeming its fit as near to perfect as he would get, he mulled over the problem of underthings.
    “All right, go find yourself two camisoles, as plain as possible, but no drawers.”
    “No drawers?” She was too surprised to be embarrassed by discussing intimate attire with the man. “I need those too.”
    “You do, but those bulky, frilly things women wear won’t set right under the pants. I’ll get you some boy’s drawers.” He glanced down at her feet. “And socks.”
    She sighed as he walked off. Her life had turned into one big scandal since she had seen him in that bank. She was riding over the countryside with five outlaws, sharing a bed with one, not to mention bathing in the same room with him, and traipsing about in male attire. Wearing boy’s drawers was just a minor addition to that name-blackening list.
    When she handed him her two camisoles, delicately trimmed with lace and embroidery, he said nothing, just looked at her once before taking them to pay for them. She knew her desire for those less than sturdy clothes was