Judith E French (23 page)

“Some of the pools are,” Ash said, “but this one has two springs feeding it, one mineral, and another surface water. That keeps the temperature from getting too warm.”

“It’s perfect,” she answered. “Perfect.” When every inch of her skin that she could reach was pink and glowing, she rinsed her hair over and over again. “All I need is soap for my hair.”

“I can fix that,” Ash offered. He climbed out of the pool and walked a short distance away to pull up several flowering plants by the roots. “These are yucca,” he explained when he returned and began to crush the roots on a rock. “Native shampoo and soap in one.”

When she looked hesitant, he beckoned her closer.

“Let me,” he said. She jumped in over her head and let him rub the sudsing plant material into her tresses. “It feels good,” she murmured. What felt better was Ash’s strong fingers massaging her scalp, lathering, and rubbing her hair, her neck, then her shoulders, breasts, and
belly. And all the while he washed, his dark eyes never ceased to caress her.

Somehow, once he’d rinsed out the shampoo, it seemed only fair that she do the same for him. Her initial shyness faded away as they laughed and touched and swam together beneath the vast blue Colorado sky.

She had known from the first moment Ash entered the water that he wanted to make love to her. She’d expected him to kiss her and pull her down under the soothing water. But she’d not guessed at how the bright sunlight would add fuel to her desire.

One kiss and she was lost. The second … oh, the second kiss … They clung together, rolling underwater, embracing, wrapping arms and legs around each other, then rising to catch a breath and begin all over again.

Something about the water and the sunshine and the dangers that they’d lived through in the past few days drove her to a height of passion she’d not realized possible. She wanted to run her hands over his shoulders, neck, and chest, and down over his flat belly to tangle in the mat of hair below. She wanted to feel the power in his length and breadth. She wanted to taste him and give him the rapture he’d shown her.

And deep inside, she knew that this would be the last time. She’d given him her word to turn herself in, but with her life in the balance, what difference did one more lie make?

I’ll love you now, she thought with bittersweet determination. But later … later, Ash, my glorious man, I’ll do whatever I have to do to survive.

Ash was not content to let her do all the work. He gave as good as he got, and finally, when she’d lost all sense of time and place, they came together in the way that men and women have since the beginning of the world.

I want to remember every touch and every kiss, Tamsin thought when she lay floating in the water wrapped in his arms. With a contented sigh, she opened her eyes and stared into his face.

I think I’m in love with you, Ash, she thought. I hope you never forget me.

“Why that worried look, darlin’? I said I’d take care of you, and I will. My lawyer is the best. No one is going to hang you. And …” His dark eyes narrowed. “After I finish what I have to do, I want …” He shook his head. “I can’t make you any promises, Tamsin. Not yet.”

“I’ve never asked you for any,” she said, but the hurt she felt kept her from falling under his spell again.

“You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I do, Ash,” she lied. “I have to.”

He kissed her again. “Hungry?”

“Always.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

She swam over to the underwater slab of rock and sat on it while Ash dressed and went to see about dinner. The warm bubbling spring eased her sore muscles and drained away her fatigue, but nothing could heal the ache in her heart.

All her life she’d dreamed of a strong, loving man like Ash. And now that she’d found him, she knew that for her, there’d never be another.

She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but here in this magical pool, at the moment of fulfillment, she’d felt a spark of life. She hoped they’d created a child today. Then she’d have a piece of him to hold close and cherish forever. And if it was true, that was all the more reason she had to make certain that she didn’t die for another man’s crime.

If she was pregnant, Atwood MacGreggor would do more for her dead than he ever had alive. He’d provide a
name and respectability for Ash’s babe. No one needed to know when she had been widowed. She’d concoct a sad tale of her husband’s demise on the journey to California. Something courageous would do nicely, so that her son or daughter would have proud memories.

As I will, she thought. No matter what happens, I’ll always cherish Ash’s memory and this time we had together.

Her reverie was broken by his return with firewood and a handful of false Solomon’s seal, a lilylike flower that grew along the edge of the wood. Tamsin recognized the plant as one Ash had picked before. The leaves and shoots were not unpleasant and made a welcome addition to the venison.

She started to climb out of the water, and he waved her back. “No, stay where you are,” he ordered. “I’m preparing this meal. Grilled deer steaks, green stuff, and—” Dramatically, he produced a dead bird resembling a partridge. “Roast chicken!”

She laughed. “That’s close enough, I suppose, but don’t expect me to pluck feathers. That’s one job I hate worse than chopping their heads off.”

He raised a dark eyebrow suspiciously. “I doubt you chopped many chickens—with all those servants around the plantation.”

“It wasn’t a plantation. I lived on a horse farm.” She sighed. “Yes, the cook did do the chopping and the scalding. But I didn’t like watching.”

He chuckled. “Sounds more like it.”

“I didn’t hear gunfire. How did you acquire our main course?”

Ash grinned. “For your information, Mrs. MacGreggor, I am the best stone thrower west of Austin. I once threw a stone that killed a grizzly bear, bounced off the
bear’s skull, and brought down an antelope, then stunned the biggest trout—”

“The biggest liar, more likely,” she teased. Pushing her sorrow to the farthest corner of her mind, she resolved to make the most of this precious time together. She’d not spoil it for either of them by sulking over things that couldn’t be changed. “Will you bake buttermilk biscuits to go with that chicken?” she teased him. “And I’d dearly like fresh churned butter, strawberries, and—”

“Strawberries, I can do. I saw some ripe ones back near where the horses are grazing. Just let me get the fire going and—”

“I’ll build the fire. You prepare the bird and pick the berries,” she replied. “If I stay in here any longer, I’ll shrivel up and float away.” She rose and held out her hand to him.

Ash helped her up the bank. “Hmmm,” he said with an admiring gaze. “Maybe I’m not as hungry as I thought.” He bent and kissed her. “Have you ever made love in a berry patch?”

“No.” She laughed. Then he whispered something so wicked in her ear that she gave him a small shove. “Ash Morgan! Wherever did you …”

He dropped the bird and swung her up into his arms. “Best try it before you complain,” he said. He kissed her again, and this time she forgot everything but the sweet sensation of his lips against hers, and her naked breasts pressed so tightly against him that she could feel the beating of his heart.

It was dark before they shared the partridge and the rest of the meal. Then, when they couldn’t eat another bite, they swam again in the mineral pool to wash off the sticky remains of crushed strawberries. Afterward, as they dried off, Ash doused the fire.

“By daylight, it’s safe,” he explained. “Any hostiles who saw the smoke would assume it was steam from the hot springs. But in the dark, the flames will show a long way. I’m sure that Buffalo Horn’s friends have given up on us and returned to their camp, but they aren’t the only hostiles in these mountains. There’s no sense in taking unnecessary chances.”

I can’t understand you, Tamsin wanted to say. You insist you want to protect me from the Indians, but you’re willing to turn me over to a crooked sheriff and a murdering judge.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Tonight, she’d have to make her move. Somehow, she’d escape Ash. She couldn’t go back toward the Cheyenne, so she’d have to backtrack, ride near Sweetwater, and take another route. She might even have to go north and join one of the wagon trains moving west.

“Ready for bed?” he asked her as he kicked dirt over the coals.

“Ready for sleep. I think I could—”

Without warning, Ash’s hand closed around her arm. “Good. Then you won’t mind if I take a few simple precautions to make sure you don’t do to me what you’ve done before.”

“What? Let go of me!” she protested as Ash brought her wrists together at her waist and tied them tightly with a length of rawhide.

“No! You can’t!” Fury boiled up inside her, and she kicked at his shins. “I won’t let you!”

Dancer stamped his feet and snorted in alarm. Another of the animals whinnied nervously.

“Darlin’, this hurts me worse than it hurts you,” Ash said.

“You don’t trust me.” Trembling with anger, she sucked in ragged gulps of breath.

He laughed. “Should I?” With one motion, he knocked
her legs out from under her, caught her before she hit the ground, and pinned her feet.

“No! No! You can’t do this to me!”

Ash wrapped another cord around her ankles. “I just want to make certain you’re here to eat the breakfast I’m going to cook for you in the morning.”

“Damn you! You tricked me!” Tears of anger ran down her cheeks. “You made love to me while all the time you—”

A ferocious roar ripped through Tamsin’s protest. From the corner of her eye, she saw a green-eyed shadow lunge out of the trees. “Cougar!” she screamed at Ash. “Cougar!”

Ash leapt for his gun. Tamsin couldn’t see him, but she knew that’s what he was doing. He wouldn’t leave her. Unarmed, he stood no chance against the slashing claws and teeth of an enraged cougar. Bound and helpless, she couldn’t fight back. She couldn’t even run.

If he didn’t get to his weapon, they were finished.

Strangely, in the split second it took to recognize the mountain lion’s roar and realize that the cat was attacking them, Tamsin’s fear burned away, leaving her with the taste of Ash’s mouth and his clean scent imprinted on her mind. Ash, she thought. Oh, Ash, I do love you.

Cool certainty and the knowledge that she was about to die settled over her with the calm of an evening mist. It seemed to her that the horses’ terrified whinnies and the puma’s scream faded until all she could hear was the rustle of wind through the trees and the gurgle of the spring.

The puma snarled again, so close that Tamsin was sure she could feel the beast’s hot, fetid breath. Then two gunshots blasted.

“Ash!” The sound of racing blood hammered in her ears.

“It’s all right.” Ash’s face loomed over her. “It’s dead.”

Blackness threatened to smother her. A faint buzzing started in her head and grew louder and louder.

“Tamsin? Tamsin? Speak to me, damn it!” Ash seized
her shoulders and shook her. “You don’t have to be afraid. The cat’s dead.”

She heard the hiss of his knife slide out of his sheath; then the leather ties binding her fell away. Ash gathered her in his arms and rocked her, whispering her name over and over.

Gradually, the humming receded. “Ash?” she murmured. A sweet sickly smell seemed to surround her. She knew what it was. Blood.

“It’s a female,” Ash said. “Big. She must go two hundred and twenty pounds.”

“A real cat? Flesh and bone? Not a ghost?”

“As real as I am. The one I killed before must have been her offspring. Pumas don’t hunt with another animal unless it’s a mother and her young.”

“It’s dead? Really?”

“Yes,” he answered softly. “It’s over. I’m sorry, Tamsin. So damned sorry.”

“You should be.” She pushed free and cautiously approached the dead animal. “How could anything so magnificent be so terrible? Did she hate us … like the Cheyenne? Did she track us all this while out of—”

“Not hate, darlin’.” He pulled her away from the cat. “She turned outlaw, a man killer.”

“Like Jack Cannon.”

Ash nodded. “Maybe, but that’s not a wild animal’s nature. Men prey on others for money, but a mountain lion’s needs are simpler. All a cat wants is to be left alone, to hunt, to mate, to raise their cubs in peace. Usually, a puma keeps as far from a human as possible. Something went wrong inside this one, something that twisted her.”

“Grief for her offspring?” Tamsin suggested.

He shrugged. “It’s not something we’ll ever know.”

“But to trail us so far … I don’t understand.”

“Not so much distance the way a lion hunts. This one’s hunting territory could easily cover a hundred miles.”

“She wasn’t so different from the Cheyenne, was she? So long as we stayed away and left her alone.”

“Maybe, maybe it’s the way things happen. Nothing stays the same, Tamsin. Not Tennessee, not Texas, and not Colorado. One of these days the wild Cheyenne and the mountain lions will be gone. It will make life easier for some folks, but something special will go out of these mountains with them.”

“And the desperadoes? Will they be gone as well?”

“No,” he replied huskily. “They’ll just change their hats and wear fancier clothes. Believe me, Tamsin, as long as there are people, the outlaws will be with us.”

At dawn, they rode southeast, entering more-civilized country. Tamsin was torn, waiting for a chance to escape, but not wanting to leave the man she’d come to cherish more than her own life.

The canyon widened, and Tamsin guided Fancy close to Ash’s gelding. Ash had rolled up his hunting shirt and tied it behind his saddle.

He’d told her he didn’t want to be mistaken for a hostile and shot by one of his own kind. With his long, dark hair and sun-bronzed skin, she wondered that anyone would recognize him as a white man.

The buckskins he’d found in Jacob’s cabin suited him as well as his long coat and neatly tailored vest and trousers, she decided. Ash Morgan had an unpredictable streak that marked him as a mustang. It could be that no woman would ever bridle his temper or train him to a tame way of life.