«Yes,» she said huskily. «Only for you. Take what’s yours, Caleb. Give me what is mine.»

For a long, burning moment he looked down into Willow’s hazel eyes, in thrall to her honesty. Certainty condensed within him, the realization that he could no more turn away from her than a river could run back from the sea.

Caleb breathed Willow’s name as he bent to kiss her. Slowly he claimed what was his and gave what was hers, merging their bodies a shimmering fraction at a time, feeling the sharing all the way to his soul. The breath came out of her in a long, rippling sigh that was his name. He wanted to ask if he was hurting her, but before he could find the words, her body answered. The tiny, secret contractions of her pleasure urged him deeper, gilding him with her response. He answered with a silky pulse that mingled his essence with hers, easing his way even more until their joining was deep and complete.

The feeling was exquisite. Willow’s eyes opened as she felt herself coming slowly undone, ecstasy stealing through her. She whispered Caleb’s name, trying to tell him of the beauty he was giving her, but she knew no words to describe the transformation taking place in her body. His kiss told her that he understood, that he was being transformed as surely as she was. She heard her own name breathed against her lips, sensed the pulses of his ecstasy rippling through his body into hers.

The knowledge that Caleb was coming undone as slowly and completely as she was sent another shimmering tide through Willow, consuming her and him as well, fusing them in a union that was both primitive and sublime. Neither knew where self ended and other began, for there was no self, no other, simply an incandescent whole where once two halves had been.

«How is he?» Willow asked.

«Good as new. All Deuce needed was some time doing nothing except eating his fool head off.»

Caleb slapped Deuce on his haunch, sending the big horse trotting into the meadow’s evening silence once more. The bullet wound had healed cleanly. The strained foreleg had taken longer, but now there was no hesitation in the horse’s stride.

«He’s moving well,» she said. «Not a bit of a limp anymore.»

The unhappiness in Willow’s voice was at odds with her words, but Caleb understood what she meant. He felt the same way. The eighteen days he had spent with her in the hidden valley was as close to heaven as he ever expected to come. Now that Deuce was sound again and the Arabians were better accustomed to high altitude, there was no excuse to linger.

«We can stay longer,» Caleb said abruptly, speaking aloud the thought that had haunted him more and more frequently since he had discovered Willow’s innocence. «We don’t have to go haring off after your damned brother. If we were meant to find him, we’ll find him no matter where we are. And if we weren’t meant to find him, so be it.»

Willow flinched at the hard edge to Caleb’s voice. She had grown accustomed to his laughter, his gentleness, and his unbridled sensuality. Not once in the past eighteen days had she seen the bleak archangel that was also part of him. She had almost forgotten it was there.

«If it were just me, I’d never leave this valley,» Willow said unhappily. «But Matt must need help or he wouldn’t have written to his brothers. It was just his bad luck that no one was left at home except me.» She smiled at Caleb and added in a soft voice, «But it was my good luck, because it led me to you.»

Caleb closed his eyes and tried to control the unreasonable anger snaking through his veins — anger at Willow, at himself, and most of all at the simple fact that once Reno was found, Willow was irretrievably lost.

«I’d rather stay in Eden,» Caleb said roughly.

«So would I, my love,» she said, going to him. «So would I.»

Willow slid her arms around Caleb and held him, savoring the familiar warmth and strength of him. His arms closed around her a little fiercely, lifting her off her feet. He kissed her hard and deep before he set her firmly on the ground once more and pinned her with a glance so savage she made a sound of protest.

«Remember,» Caleb said harshly, «you were the one who wanted to go looking for him. I was willing to leave it to God.»

«What do you mean?»

Caleb’s smile was as thin and fierce as the blade of the big knife he always wore, but he said nothing more.

«Caleb?» she asked fearfully.

«Dig out your map, southern lady.»

She flinched at the tone of his voice and at the nickname he hadn’t used since they had come to the valley. «My map?»

«The one you have hidden somewhere in that big carpetbag,» Caleb said, turning away from Willow, walking back toward camp.

«How did you know?» she asked, dazed.

«Easy. Gold-hunting fools always draw maps for other fools to follow.»

The savagery in Caleb’s voice startled Willow. She stared after him uncertainly before she followed.

When she arrived in camp, Caleb was stirring the ashes of their breakfast fire. He didn’t even look up as she went to the unwieldy carpetbag that was her only luggage and began rummaging through its contents. He didn’t look at her when she ripped apart a section of lining and withdrew a folded piece of paper. He didn’t look at her at all until she walked slowly up to the fire, map in hand.

«I would have showed you sooner,» Willow said quietly, «but the map really isn’t much help.»

Caleb gave her a sideways glance that could have peeled bark from a living tree. «You didn’t trust me and we both know it.»

Color flared on her cheekbones. «It wasn’t my secret to tell. It was Matt’s, and he said not to show the map to anyone. But I’m showing it to you now.» She thrust the paper into his hands. «Here. Look at it. You won’t find much I didn’t already tell you. Matt never was a trusting kind of person. He made it so no one could steal the map and get any use of it. Unfortunately, I can’t get much use of it either.»

Saying nothing, Caleb took the map, opened it, and glanced quickly over the paper. The major landmarks were easy enough to recognize, the rivers and the clustered mountains of the San Juan country. Various passes into the heart of the country were marked, but no one pass was preferred over another. Whether someone started in California, Mexico, Canada, or east of the Mississippi, routes into the SanJuans had been laid out to follow.

Caleb looked at Willow questioningly.

«Matt didn’t know for sure where anyone was,» she explained. «The letter came to our biggest farm with instructions to forward it wherever the Moran brothers were. I copied the letter and sent it to the last address I had for each of my brothers.»

«Where was that?»

«Australia, California, the Sandwich Isles, and China. But that information was years old. They could be anywhere now, even back in America.»

Caleb raised his eyebrows and looked again at the map. He grunted. «Your brother is a good hand at drawing maps.» Caleb frowned. «But he left off one detail. Where the hell is his base camp?»

«It isn’t marked as far as I could see.» Willow took a deep breath. «I think Matt was so cautious because he found gold.»

«I expect so. Some damn fool usually does.»

Willow stared, unable to believe the indifference in Caleb’s voice. «Do you have something against finding gold?»

He shrugged. «I’d rather raise cattle. When the going gets rough, you can eat them. You can’t eat gold.»

«You can use it to buy food,» Willow pointed out rather tartly.

«Sure. Unless you get yourself shot in the back by somegunnie who figures it’s easier to jump your claim than to stake his own.» Cold topaz eyes pinned Willow. «I’ve seen gold camps. They have the stink of Hell about them. Nothing but greed and killing and whores.»