«I feel —» Shannon’s breath broke. «Dizzy. Crazy. I can’t breathe and I’m shaking like I’m cold but parts of me are on fire and I’m burning and I want — I want — oh, God, I don’t know what I want! What did you do to me, Whip?»

For a long moment Whip looked at Shannon, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.

«How long have you been married?» he asked finally.

«What does that — have to do with — how I feel?»

The breaking of Shannon’s breath acted on Whip like tongues of fire licking over his aroused flesh, making him ache until he had to clench his teeth against a groan.

«It has everything to do with it,» Whip said thickly. «What you’re feeling is passion, honey girl. Pure and wild and hotter than hell.»

«I don’t — understand.»

Whip made a sound that could have been a curse or a prayer or both at once.

«Your husband wasn’t much of a man to cozy up with on a cold night, was he?» Whip said between his teeth.

«Silent John wasn’t — that is, heisn’t — a warm man.»

«Are you telling me that you haven’t ever felt sexual desire like this before?»

«This?» Shannon drew a ragged breath and looked at Whip with burning blue eyes. «This is desire?»

«Son of a bitch,» Whip whispered, shocked. «You mean it, don’t you?»

She nodded.

«As naive as an egg,» Whip muttered. «God. Silent John must have been about as much fun in bed as a rattlesnake. No wonder you don’t mind being his widow — he’s been as good as dead to you for years!»

Shannon’s breath caught at the contempt in Whip’s voice. She shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

As naive as an egg.

Abruptly, Shannon’s desire was transformed into anger.

Whip has no right to act so superior just because I’m not as knowing about men as Clementine or Betsy.

But Shannon wasn’t going to open the subject again by pointing that out.

«Don’t call me a widow,» Shannon said through her teeth.

«Why? It’s likely the truth and you know it.»

«But if the truth goes beyond this cabin, who will protect me from the Culpeppers after you leave? And you will leave, won’t you?Yondering man.»

«Yes,» Whip said harshly, stung by the anger and distance in Shannon’s voice. «I’ll leave one day. But not until I find a safe place for you to stay.»

«As long as I’m Silent John’s wife, I’m safe enough here.»

«That’s crap, Shannon. You’re his widow, not his wife, and this place isn’t safe for a girl alone. Especially one as naive as you!»

«It has been for seven years.»

«Only because Silent John was here with you,» Whip retorted. «Without him you wouldn’t last two months.»

Shannon barely bit back the hot retort that was crowding her tongue. Telling Whip the truth would do no good, and could do a great deal of harm.

«I’ll live where I please,» she said tightly.

«Alone?»

«Yes.»

«You can’t.»

«I can!» she said savagely. «And what business is it of yours how I live, yondering man? You have no right to order me about like I was bound by law to you.»

Whip was appalled by the idea of Shannon’s living alone through the winter in Echo Basin’s high, icy wilderness, having no one to depend upon but herself. He shook his head, said something profane beneath his breath, and raked his hand through his hair in frustration.

His fingers were bright with his own blood, blood drawn by Prettyface in defense of his naive, stubborn mistress.

When Shannon saw Whip’s fingers, she felt her hot, inexplicable rage at him drain away, leaving only an edgy kind of concern for his wounds.

«Come on,» Shannon said, turning away. «One secret spilled between us won’t matter.»

«What?»

Without a word Shannon walked to the dry goods cupboard. She opened the door, pushed on the center of a shelf, and stepped forward into the darkness.

An instant later she vanished.

The warm, humid smell of a hot spring floated back out to Whip, along with Shannon’s voice.

«Silent John told me never to tell anyone about the hot spring, but…»

Shannon’s voice died. Light flared as she struck a match and set it to a lantern’s wick. Glass clinked quietly as she replaced the chimney. A warm yellow glow spread out to Whip.

«Well, come on,» Shannon said impatiently. «Silent John swore by — swearsby — the healing power of the spring, and your hands are pretty well chewed.»

«I’ll be damned,» Whip said, stepping toward the cupboard. «So this is why he built the cabin right into the mountainside.»

Shannon shrugged. «All I know is the hot spring boils meat and washes clothes and dishes real clean at the far end, and is just right for bathing at this end. Everywhere else, the hot spring keeps the worst of the cold at bay when I can’t get out to gather wood in the winter.»

Shannon set the lantern on a wooden crate that had once held ammunition. Light transformed twists of steam into ghostly golden wraiths.

Whip ducked low as he went through the cupboard. Once inside the cave, he saw that the ceiling was high enough for him to stand upright. Lantern light glanced off the rocky walls and uneven floor, and made the many deep cracks in the rock look like ragged slices of midnight. But for the tiny hissing of the lamp and the seething, whispering swirls of water, the cave was utterly still.

A metal pan scraped over rock as Shannon dipped up hot water for Whip. She put the steaming pan on the crate next to the lantern, fished a lump of soap from a smaller wooden box and stepped aside to make room for Whip.

When Whip looked from the water to Shannon, but didn’t move farther into the cave, she made an exasperated sound.

«Surely you aren’t afraid of caves?» Shannon asked curtly.

«No. But you ought to be.»

«Why? I’ve been here a thousand times.»

«Not with me. Not when lantern light outlines your breasts and shows me that your nipples are still hard, still hungry. Do they ache, honey girl?»

Shannon flushed to the roots of her hair. She did ache, and not only in her breasts. But she wasn’t about to mention that to Whip. He had had enough fun at her expense already.

«Go to hell, yondering man. What I feel is none of your business.»

Frustration fairly vibrated through Shannon’s body and voice. Whip knew what its source was, knew its cure, and worst of all he knew the naive little widow would be the hottest woman he had ever shared a bed with.

Abruptly Whip closed his eyes, unable to look at Shannon any longer without touching her.

And if he touched her, he would take her.

He didn’t want that to happen. Not yet. Not after he had just discovered how naive she was. Seducing her now would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

Whip wanted Shannon to give herself to him knowing full well what she was doing, not because her judgment had been clouded by her first taste of real pleasure.

«I’m counting to three,» Whip said, his voice rough. «When I open my eyes, you better be —»

«But —»

«— in the cabin or I’ll strip those ragged clothes off you and teach you everything your damned husband should have about men, women, and sex.»

Shannon drew a swift, audible breath at Whip’s bluntness. If it hadn’t been for his bleeding hands, she would have grabbed the lantern and left him standing alone in the dark.

«Your hands need tending,» she said through her teeth.

«They don’t ache nearly so much as my crotch does. Do you want to tend to that, too?»

«You are a crude, miserable, surely —»

«Get your sweet little rump out of here,» Whip interrupted savagely, «or I’ll do something we’ll both regret. One.»

The temptation to throw the pan of water at Whip was so great that Shannon had her hands wrapped around the warm metal rim before she realized what she was doing.

For an instant her fingers tightened, getting ready to lift the pan.