Judith E French

by Morgan's Woman

  “You’ve still got a few things to learn about weather out here,” he teased. “And about cooking over an open hearth.”

  She ignored his reference to the rain. “At home, we had servants.”

  “Servants.” He chuckled. “I thought all ladies learned how to bake and sew.”

  “Most do.” She applied a little more pressure to her task and he winced.

  “Ouch! I should have traded you to the Utes. You enjoy torture.” His fingers grazed her shoulder and neck, lingering there until she felt her face grow warm.

  “Don’t,” she protested halfheartedly.

  “Why?”

  She carried her nursing supplies to the table and washed her hands in a wooden bowl. The day had passed quickly, without the usual sparring of cross words. Tonight, the cabin seemed filled with tension.

  The downpour closed around them, shutting them off from the mountains and sky. With the rain, the single room should have felt stuffy. Instead, the air seemed too rich for her lungs. She was restless, her mind churned, and her body felt lighter than bird feathers.

  “How long are we going to play this game?” The deep timbre of Ash’s voice played along her spine and made her giddy. “Tamsin?”

  “What?” She liked the way he said her name.

  “Come here, woman.”

  She shook her head. Getting too close to him was dangerous. Not that she was afraid of him …

  All right, she was … just a little, she admitted to herself. “Don’t do something you’ll regret,” she said.

  “Are you speakin’ to me?”

  Ash’s smile would tempt an angel. It lit his face and made his eyes glow with an inner sparkle.

  She cleared away the bowl and wiped the table vigorously. And all the while she was acutely aware of the scents and sounds around her, the hiss of the fire, the bite of the herbs that hung from the rafters.

  She wanted to remember this night, these hours. She didn’t want to think about what was right or wrong or what tomorrow might bring. She wanted to live this time … to know what it would be like to lie in the arms of this man.

  “You know what you’re doing to me,” he said.

  She swallowed and touched her bottom lip with trembling fingers. He could be mine, she thought, mine for tonight, at least.

  And why not? What was there to lose? Her reputation? She was a widow, not a starry-eyed virgin. Once she reached California, no one would know or care whether or not she’d spent a single night in Ash Morgan’s bed.

  Hadn’t she spent a lifetime trying to do what other people told her she should?

  He rose and came to her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Firelight played across his taut, bruised features, and she read the naked yearning there.

  “Tamsin MacGreggor, you are something fine,” he murmured. She didn’t say a word when he raised a hand to slowly pull the pins, one by one, from her hair. Her thick knot came undone and tumbled loose around her shoulders.

  With a catch in her throat, she whispered his name.

  Dark eyes gazed into hers questioningly as a smile curved his lips. “I want you. I think you want me. Do you, Tamsin?”

  She sighed and leaned against him as the strength flowed out of her limbs. “I don’t know … what I want,” she lied, but her fingers skimmed the sensual lines of his mouth and the chiseled angles of his cheekbones and battered brow.

  She traced the length of his strong nose and the dark bristles of his unshaven cheek. As though she had all the time in the world, she savored the curves of his strong, squared chin and bronzed throat, committing every feature to her forever memory.

  “Tamsin.” He groaned, and his arm tightened around her. She tilted her face so that her mouth met his.

  She needed him, needed to hold him closer and shut out the bad things that had happened. She didn’t care if it was just for now. She wouldn’t waste this precious gift of time.

  His mouth fitted to hers, searing her with a kiss that told her more than words. She clung to him, crushing him to her, and opening her mouth to draw him in.

  His tongue filled her, but it wasn’t enough. She could feel his hands seeking, possessing her in a way that no man had done before.

  He backed her step by step until they reached the bed. Vaguely, she was aware that he’d pressed her down against the blankets and that his long, horseman’s legs were wrapped around hers. She could smell rain and pine needles and woodsmoke, and above all the elusive male odor that was his alone.

  She wanted more—had to have more.

  “Tamsin.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, damn it,” she cried. “Yes!”

  He didn’t hesitate. With a swiftness that both thrilled and terrified her, he responded to her need with a naked hunger of his own. With a sound more growl than groan, he thrust a hand beneath her skirts. Lean, callused fingers moved up her leg and thigh, scorching her skin with a welcome fire.

  She arched under him, spreading her legs for his touch, thrilling to his weight and the hard proof of his arousal pressed against her heated flesh.

  His kiss devoured her, and she reveled in the taste and texture of him. Wholeheartedly, she gave as good as she got, kissing him as she’d never kissed another man. But as wonderful as this was, it wasn’t enough. She kneaded and caressed his neck and shoulders, caught his lower lip between her teeth, and shuddered at the wild sensations that shattered her reason and dared her to act on her innermost fantasies.

  Ash’s head moved lower. He kissed and bit her neck and the hollow of her throat, then buried his face between her breasts, all the while stroking and pinching her inner thighs. “Is this what you want?” he asked. “And this?”

  “Yes, yes,” Tamsin urged him. She’d sensed a smoldering passion in Ash that matched her own hidden desires. She’d imagined what it might be like to have him make love to her, but she hadn’t dared to believe it could come true.

  Reality was better than her fantasies.

  Tamsin was conscious of a throbbing ache and a growing moisture between her legs that both shocked and aroused her. Sex with her husband had been an uncomfortable duty. What was happening here in this lonesome cabin was wild and primal and wonderful.

  Ash fumbled with his trousers, and she gasped as his swollen member pressed against her bare thigh. She knew that any decent woman would put a stop to this, but she couldn’t. Brazenly, she reached down to touch him, and her eyes widened as she brushed the tumescent length.

  He was so hot … so alive. All virile male, she thought, and she had never felt so feminine.

  Ash groaned again. “I want you wet for me,” he murmured. “Wet and silky sweet.” Then he probed the source of her need with one long finger.

  “You’re wicked,” she whispered hoarsely. The feel of him inside her was maddening. She bucked against him, feeling herself nearing the delicious brink of some great precipice.

  “Am I?” He tantalized her with two fingers and chuckled. “I can be even worse.”

  She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out with pleasure, and heard the sound of fabric tearing. Then Ash’s mouth closed on her breast. “Oh …”

  Hungrily, he licked and sucked her nipple, worrying at her breast until she could not contain her growing hunger. “Please,” she begged him.

  “Please, what? Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” She groaned. “Don’t stop.”

  “Tell me what you want me to do, Tamsin,” he whispered. “Do you want this?” He pressed himself into her hand, filling it and making bolts of flame sear up her spine.

  “Yes, yes,” she gasped.

  She waited for his thrust, but to her surprise, he braced himself with his hands and lowered his head. She felt the length of his hair brush against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and she caught her breath. He wouldn’t! He didn’t mean to—

  “Oh!” She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

  “Y
ou’re sweet, Tamsin, sweet as wild honey,” he murmured.

  Her eyes widened as ripples of tantalizing pleasure rolled through her. “What are … you … Oh!”

  She thrashed her head from side to side, unable to lie still, unable to think. His mouth was on her. His tongue teasing, licking … driving her to the point of no return.

  He clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry as she reached the peak and tumbled off into nothingness amid a shimmering rainbow of iridescent colors. The earth fell away beneath her as she drifted in delicious waves of rapture.

  She hardly realized that he’d turned over onto his back and lifted her so that she was astride him. “Now it’s your turn to do the work,” he said.

  It seemed the most natural thing in the world to settle over him, opening for his deep, full thrust. There was barely an instant of hesitation on her part as she adjusted to the odd but pleasant experience of being in control. Then she moved with him, giving and taking, letting her primeval instincts take control until her passion rose again with an even greater heat.

  This time Tamsin held back her climax until Ash reached his. His stifled moan of satisfaction was all she needed to push her over the edge again. Knowing that she had pleased him was an added happiness to her own fulfillment. And this time was no disappointment. She clung to him while her mind spun out into the heavens and her body convulsed with pure physical joy.

  For long minutes they lay together, still joined, sheened with sweat and utterly spent. Then he turned on his side so that she curled beside him, fitting perfectly into the curve of his shoulder.

  “Is it always like that for you?” she asked.

  He chuckled and kissed her lower lip tenderly. “No, but then I’ve never made love to a Tennessee woman before. I can see what I’ve been missing.” He brushed the tangled hair away from her face. “You’re something, Tamsin MacGreggor. With talents like yours, why the hell did you take up a life of crime?”

  She was too contented to argue with him. “It wasn’t like this with my husband,” she said shyly. “I’ve never been with anyone else.”

  “This is a hell of a time to discover you like it.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “Hell, no.” He sighed and lifted her hand to his lips. Gently, he kissed her palm and the place at her wrists where her veins showed blue. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

  She averted her eyes. “Don’t,” she begged him. “Don’t say what you don’t mean. I know what I am. I’m too big and too tall to—”

  “Hush …” He covered her mouth with a forefinger. “You’ve skin like milk where the sun hasn’t dusted you with freckles. You’ve breasts to drive a man to drink, and hips meant to give pleasure.”

  “My chin is too firm,” she replied. “And my mouth—”

  “Your mouth is perfect for kissing.” To prove his point, he kissed her love-swollen lips. “If you were a lady of fortune, you’d be rich in—”

  “But I’m not, Ash,” she said, suddenly sounding serious. “I’m a backsliding Methodist, and what we’ve done will have me on my knees praying for forgiveness, if I live long enough.”

  He pushed back and studied her rosy cheeks and troubled eyes. “You think what we’ve done is a sin?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Who are we hurting? My wife is dead, and so is your husband. Considering the circumstances, I’d say we’ve not strayed so far from the path of righteousness.”

  “Don’t make a joke of this,” she said. “What we did—what I did, I chose to do. All my life I’ve tried to follow the teachings of the church. I’ve fed the poor, and I’ve tended the sick. Until I came to Colorado, I never stole so much as an apple from someone else’s orchard. Now I’m a horse thief and a murderer.”

  He tensed. “You admit killing Sam Steele?”

  “No! Not him,” she insisted. “But I did kill an Indian, maybe two. Three if you count the one Dancer stomped on. And now I’ve just slept with a man not my husband.”

  He chuckled. “Since the Cheyenne were trying to murder you, I hardly think that counts against you with the Man above.”

  “But I did sleep with …”

  “Honey, we weren’t doing much sleeping. Are you sorry?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not. If I burn in hell for what—”

  He silenced her with a kiss. “If taking comfort from each other is a sin, it must be a small one.”

  “Comfort?” she asked in a small voice. “Was that what it was for you?”

  He stroked her hair and raised a lock of it to brush his lips. “Red as a mountain sunset,” he murmured. “You’re a hard one, Tamsin. You back a man against a rock and give him no place to run.”

  “It was more than comfort to me.”

  “And me,” he grated. “I still don’t trust you as far as I could throw you, but …”

  “But?”

  He chuckled. “But you’ve made me break my rule about keeping business and personal feeling separate.”

  “You don’t think I’m a soiled dove?”

  “Far from it, woman. You couldn’t have given me a more precious gift. Under the circumstances, I think even your God would understand.”

  “He’s yours, too,” she replied.

  “There’s small sin and then there’s real sin, Tamsin. I think I’ve seen enough of the bad kind to know the difference.”

  She exhaled softly. “I hope so.”

  He pulled her closer, cradling her in his arms.

  “Be careful of your wound,” she reminded him.

  He laughed softly. “Now you think of it?”

  She pushed her tangled skirts down over her legs and sat up. “Will we get out of these mountains alive?”

  He ran a hand through his damp hair. “I expect to give it my best effort.”

  “And you’re dead set on turning me in to the sheriff at Sweetwater?”

  “Afraid so, darlin’.”

  His feelings for Tamsin were hard to sort out, as complicated as she was. On the one hand, he felt a duty to do what he was being paid for, to take her in. On the other, he felt responsible for her.

  He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the pillow. Part of him wanted to believe in her innocence. And another part wanted only to repeat what they’d just done.

  “Ash.”

  “What?”

  “Could you just hold me?”

  “Sure, darlin’.”

  “I like the way it feels.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I feel safer with your arms around me.”

  “Good.”

  “And one more thing,” she whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you try to believe me when I tell you that I haven’t done anything wrong … that I didn’t kill Sam Steele?”

  “I’ll try,” he answered, hoping he hadn’t promised more than a reasonable man could give.

  Ash lay awake listening to the rain as Tamsin dozed in his arms. The fire had burned down to coals on the hearth and it was dark in the cabin, but he could see lightning flashes through the cracks in the shutter and hear the rumble of thunder moving in from the west.

  His side ached where the bullet had plowed along it, but making love to Tamsin had soothed the deep hurt that throbbed in his soul.

  He’d never thought to become involved with a woman like Tamsin. Sleeping with one of his suspects hadn’t been in his plan.

  Not that he had a real plan. His dreams had died with the cooling ashes of the cabin he’d built for Becky. He’d done what he thought he did best—hunt down outlaws and turn them over to the law. That didn’t require a long-range course of action. He’d lived day by day, kept sharp by the knowledge that stupidity or a slow gun hand would see him dead before he caught up with Jack Cannon and his remaining brother, Boone.

  Once he’d seen justice done, he meant to give up bounty hunting and look for some decent woman and a life that didn’t mean looking over his
shoulder or listening for the click of a gun hammer in the night.

  But he hadn’t kept his promise to Becky yet. He still had unfinished business with the Cannons. This was the wrong time and the wrong woman. There were too many complications. It was better if he didn’t ponder on it too much … if he took what Tamsin offered and was satisfied with tonight.

  She whimpered in her sleep and stirred restlessly as a loud growl of thunder rolled down from the mountain peak. Instantly, Ash felt a warm rush of emotion. Wrong time, wrong place, he thought wryly, but she did feel good next to him.

  He tightened his embrace and gently kissed the crown of her head. Her hair bore a faint scent of flowers. He wondered how that was possible.

  Old memories crowded around him in the darkness as the rain locked them in a private world. He found himself thinking about Becky, but oddly, he had trouble picturing her face. He’d been little more than a boy, years ago, when he’d first laid eyes on her and had fallen hard. Life had changed him since then.

  Funny how a man could be attracted to two such different women. They were as different as a rose and a wildflower. Delicate, sweet Becky had been his yellow rose, blooming so long as she was carefully tended and kept safe inside a garden fence. Tamsin was the fireweed, strong and self-sufficient, as beautiful as any cultivated flower and too tough for even a forest fire to destroy.

  He’d never forget Becky. She’d always have a special place in his heart, but that part of his life was over. Common sense told him that little Becky wouldn’t have been happy with the man he was now.

  “Fireweed,” he whispered under his breath. Somehow, he had the strangest notion to find a cluster of fireweed and fill Tamsin’s arms with it.

  Chapter 16

  Ash eased out of the low bed, picked up his rifle, wrapped himself in a length of oilcloth, and ventured into the night to relieve himself. Once in the downpour, he circled the cabin looking for any sign of visitors. He didn’t see a living thing, hadn’t expected to, but old habits died hard.

  He was sure that they’d left the Cheyenne behind, but not so certain about Cannon. He had an uneasy gnawing in his gut that the outlaw wasn’t too far off. He’d chased Jack for so many years that it seemed as though he’d developed a sixth sense regarding his whereabouts.