She gritted her teeth and glared at him with green hellfire in her eyes. Suddenly, as if she realized what she was doing to him, she stopped squirming. A flash of terror crossed her face.

He felt like dirt. "Truce?"

"For how long?"

Frightened or not, she wasn't cowed. "Today. Tonight," he rasped. His loins ached with need. He had to take his hands away from her, had to put distance between them before he lost control.

"Until daybreak tomorrow?"

He nodded and slowly got to his feet, turning away to keep her from seeing his obvious arousal. He removed his gun belt and flung it across the creek. "Go for my rifle and you'll regret it," he said thickly as he dropped belly down on the rocky streambank. Melting snow from the mountain peaks fed the tumbling course, making the flow slightly warmer than freezing. Bracing himself for the shock, Ash scooped up handfuls of running water and splashed his face and arms.

The frigid water couldn't wash away his desire, but it did keep him from making a total bastard of himself. He glanced back at her to make certain she wasn't stalking him with a rock. "You pack a mean right," he said.

Tamsin's freckles stood out starkly against milky white skin. "I'm sorry," she stammered. Fear was still evident in her expression. She looked at him as if she expected him to tear off her skirts.

The hell of it was, he wanted to.

Ash dunked his entire head under the water and came up sputtering. Need churned in his loins. He wanted to see the shape of her breasts and bury his face between them. He wanted to taste her skin and feel her nipples harden against his tongue.

He stripped off his boots and socks and plunged into the stream. The water was only waist deep but swift, splashing over and around the mossy time-washed boulders that littered the ancient streambed. He submerged completely, letting the sting of the cold liquid wash away the evil from his mind.

He came up gasping for air.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Tamsin demanded. She stood on the bank staring at him. Her clothes were dirty and disheveled, and her glorious red hair hung over her shoulders in wild abandon.

Ash took one look at her and dived under again. He might not be able to quell his growing attraction toward her, but he could cool his ardor. This time when he surfaced, he brought his sense of humor with him. "Come on in," he dared. "The water's fine."

"Are you out of your mind?"

He laughed. "Probably."

"You expect me to undress?"

He shook his head. "Hell, no. Come in like you are. What better way to wash your clothes?"

Tamsin glanced toward the horses.

"Don't even think it," he warned. "We've a truce, remember? You gave me your word."

"Under duress."

Goose bumps rose on his skin, and his teeth began to chatter. "Where's your nerve, woman?"

A mischievous gleam danced in her eyes. "How do I know you won't hit me with a rock?"

He laughed again. "If I didn't finish you off after you punched me, you're probably safe until dark. Then I mean to throw you to that mountain lion."

She tugged off her left boot, raised her skirt, and rolled down one black stocking.

Damned if she didn't have a fine-looking ankle. Her bare foot was narrow, high-arched, and very clean. He'd always liked his women clean. "Hurry up," he said brusquely, "before I come out and throw you in."

She removed her second boot, quickly shedding the other stocking and then her vest. She undid the top two buttons on her bodice, but before his imagination got too randy, she held her nose and jumped in.

She shrieked as the cold water closed over her. The current knocked her off balance, and she fell on her bottom. But before the force of the water could wash her onto the rocks, he caught her around the waist.

Tamsin clasped his neck, and before he realized what was happening, her mouth was on his. Instantly, incandescent desire leaped between them, drawing him deeper into a fevered kiss of searing heat.

His heart thundered as her lips parted to receive the thrust of his tongue. He felt her tremble in his arms, and his craving for her came flooding back.

She urged him on with tiny whimpers of pleasure as he molded his body to hers, crushing her against him. Then he tore his lips from hers and began to kiss her neck and the soft rise of her bosom.

"We can't," she murmured. "Not like this."

He groaned in disappointment but made no effort to stop her as she broke from his arms and sank into the water. Seconds later, she scrambled up. The dazed expression was gone, replaced with laughter.

"Let's get out of here before we drown each other."

Swearing under his breath, he climbed the bank and helped her up, trying not to think how perfectly Tamsin's hand fit his. Her fingers were long and graceful. He wondered how it would feel to have them stroking him… touching him.

Awkward silence hung between them for a heartbeat; then she laughed again. "I hope you've got dry clothes," she said matter-of-factly. "If not, you're going to catch your death."

"I do." His mouth still tingled from the touch of her lips. His arms remembered how she felt.

This is Cannon's woman, he reminded himself. You're playing with fire.

"What have we started?" she asked, almost as if she could read what was going on in his head. Then she shook her head. "I've never kissed a man like that. Never knew…"

She's lying, he thought. She has to be lying. But the words slipped out. "Me, either."

"I hope not," she teased. "You don't seem the type to kiss a man at all."

"Hardly." He drew in a deep breath. "What are we going to do about it?" To hell with Jack Cannon. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe the outlaw was nothing to her, but that didn't matter now. What was real was the ache in his gut and the need to hold her again.

"Under the circumstances? Nothing." Her eyes held him. "Unless…" She sighed. "I'm a respectable woman, Ash. I've never been with a man, other than my husband… not in the biblical sense. And I'm too old to learn new tricks."

"I'm not." He stripped off his wet shirt and fumbled with his belt. "And I don't think tricks was the word you were looking for."

"Where are your manners?" She turned her back. "I've dry clothing in my bags. Do I have your permission to fetch them?"

He peeled off his soaking pants and stood bare in the sunshine. The radiating warmth felt like a taste of heaven. "Why didn't you go for my rifle and shoot me while I was in the creek?"

She kept facing away from him, but he saw her muscles tense. "I'm not a murderer."

"So you keep telling me." So they all said. He'd never known a killer to admit his crime.

Tamsin didn't fit his image of a back shooter. Maybe she was innocent, but it wasn't his place to make that decision. Once a man started figuring the guilt of another, he'd lose all respect for the law. "Put your dry things on," he ordered. "I'll not look at you."

"All right." Then she laughed.

"What's funny?"

"Your gun belt is on the far side of the creek. You've got to go back in that freezing water to fetch it."

"Auugh." He shuddered at the thought. Damned if he wouldn't throw a bridle on Shiloh and ride across. One bath like that was enough for a day.

By the time Tamsin had retrieved her change of clothing, dressed, and tamed her hair, Ash had sliced venison into small strips to bake on a rock beside the fire. She approached him hesitantly, unsure of what to say.

Things had gotten out of control. His kiss had left her both excited and confused. She'd behaved shamelessly, and now all she could think of was having his arms around her again.

She stopped a few feet away and waited for him to speak first. When the silence grew between them, she searched frantically for something to ease the growing tension.