"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.

He hoped Tamsin would be the key to catching Cannon, but he was torn between his feelings for her and his doubts about her innocence.

Devil take him, he didn't believe Tamsin had murdered Sam Steele in cold blood, but if she killed that Cheyenne, she might have shot the rancher. And regardless of his doubts, he still had to take her in.

He'd chased down enough suspects to know that a man's past, or a woman's, had a way of catching up with them. Tamsin would never find happiness if she couldn't clear her name. California wasn't far enough to run. Sooner or later, a lawman or another bounty hunter would see her face and remember an old wanted poster.

Rather than try to arrest her, he might shoot her down like a rabid dog.

Trouble was, Tamsin wouldn't understand why his way was the only way. His daddy wasn't an educated man, but he was smart. He'd always said that a person couldn't twist and turn the law to suit themselves. Once a man started down that road, he was apt to lose sight of right and wrong.

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he hadn't been born Big Jim Morgan's boy, but it was too late to change that now. His father's sense of right was part of him, and he had to follow that trail whether it was easy or not.

Drenched by the icy rain, Ash dashed back to the cabin. He opened the heavy door to see Tamsin sitting up in bed with a worried expression on her face. "It's the middle of the night," he said, throwing off the oilcloth and shaking himself like a wet dog. "Go back to sleep."

Her eyes were large and frightened. "I woke up and you were gone."

"Just outside."

Damned if she wasn't a fine sight, wearing nothing but a blanket. Her soft Tennessee accent poured over him like warm honey, making him forget the damp chill. If she kept staring at him like that, she'd have him on top of her, making promises he couldn't keep.

"Nature called," he said gruffly, trying to force down the rising ache that rose to tempt him from reason.

What had happened between them was physical, good sex between two lonely people, nothing more.

The argument didn't sit right, and he tried to justify the notion as he threw his makeshift cloak over a chair and went to the hearth to dry off. By the time he'd built up the fire so that the bigger sections of log caught, she was standing beside him, her naked body wrapped in a blanket.

"I was afraid you'd left me," she said, draping another blanket over his shoulders.