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
