supernatural, too beautiful to touch, an angel, a spirit, the spirit of

life that pervaded the mountain.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded harshly. She smiled, a slow

cu~rl of her lips that touched her eyes to deep, shimmering radiance.

She took a step toward him, shook her head slightly.

And reached for him.

Her arms came around him, giving, soft. She pressed against him. She was

naked beneath the buckskin, and her breasts were full and flush against

him, the hardened peaks seeming to rake his flesh despite the layers of

clothes between them. Sparks tore into him, igniting great fires,

ripping through his limbs, thundering down to his groin.

And then she kissed him. Her teeth grazed his lips, and the tip of her

tongue encircled his lips, touched the roof of his mouth, swept into his

mouth. There was a pounding so fierce he could not deny it.

He touched her. Touched her almost violently, his arms sweeping around

her, his lips seizing hard upon hers, his tongue returning each sweet

torment she had cast upon him. He swept her from her feet and carried

her to the soft embankment. He pressed her to the earth, his mouth still

covering hers. He felt the soaring temptation of her nails raking

lightly against his back, drawing new, shimmering sensations of deadly

heat within him.

This was madness.

He drew his lips back from hers, and her eyes met his. Violet,

beguiling, with a touch of fire, a touch of innocence.

Sweetly wicked, she smiled again; she touched his cheek. Her lashes fell

demurely, sultry, sensual against the pale marble beauty of her cheek.

She had come to seduce him.

He groaned aloud.

It was madness.

Nalte might well kill them both if he came upon him. But the fire had

spread throughout his limbs. Tension and desire pervaded his heart and

his mind and knotted fiercely at his loin, driving him to madness. How

could she smile so hauntingly, knowing that she invited him to doom. He

swore softly, and he touched her lower lip in the moon glow, meeting the

wild violet beauty of her eyes. "Lead me to death then, if you would,

Miss. Stuart. I cannot leave you now."

And he seized her lips once again with his own. The rich, verdant scent

of the earth and stream surrounded them, and he was lost.

Chapter Twelve.

l_9ie? Tess whispered against his lips. Desperate to be near him that

night, she had hardly believed the good fortune that had let her come to

him, and now, in the magical splendor of the night, he was talking of

dying in her arms.

He was so tense above her. His eyes raked over her with a hard edge, and

his voice was harsh, but still she felt the depth of his longing. It was

luxurious to be so coveted and so desired. And yet she wondered at his

words, her eyes widening to his.

"Nalte," Jamie said, leaning high above her.

"He would kill me in seconds if he found me with you. Is that your plan?

To seduce me to my doom?"

She didn't reply right away. She smiled wickedly and smoothed his hair

back from his face." Would you really die for me?" she whispered softly.

He caught her hand where she touched him and drew her wrists together

high over her head, staring down at her. She didn't know if he loved her

or despised her in those seconds, but she did know that he wanted her.

Tension con stricter the length of his body, and muscles convulsed at

his throat and within the tautness of his features.

"Is that what you want?" he demanded.

He wasn't smiling. She knew that she had probably tested him beyond

endurance, so she whispered softly to him in the night.

"No, I do not want you to die for me. Nalte knows that I am here."

"What?"

"He came to me and told me that I could go to you, that he had made his

decision. We are to stay here until the ceremonies are complete for his

sister, then the Apache will see that we are given an escort out of the

mountains."

"Nalte ... knows?" Jamie repeated.

She nodded solemnly.

"He said that you told him I was already your woman. He also said that

you were either a fool or a very brave man to have come for me, and that

a brave man deserves the respect of other brave men. And so he told me

that you were here, and that I could come to you."

He stared down at her, his grip hard upon her wrists as he tried to

understand what she was telling him. Nalte had decided in their favor.

There was no need to die here. He could leave with Tess.

He could leave with her.

And he could make love to her, here, tonight, in the shadow of the

Apache's mountains, at the stream where life itself and the night seemed

mystical.

He cried out harshly and lowered himself over her, his lips parting

before they ever touched hers. He ravished her mouth, demanding that it

open to his, and he seemed to taste and find all of her, his tongue

delving ever deeper, his teeth teasing her lips, his breath mingling

with hers, the whole of his kiss so deep and complete and sensual that

it was raw and laid her bare. It touched her on a level so intimate that

the very decadence aroused her to shattering heights. Then his lips left

hers, and she was bereft. The night air touched her lips where they

remained damp and moist from his touch.

His fingers were upon the rawhide laces of her buckskin dress. Her

breasts spilled free to his touch, and his hand cupped and caressed

them, his fingers stroking and arousing her nipples. Then his mouth

formed hungrily around one nipple to suckle and tease the hardening bud,

to send streams of excitement and desire sweeping through her limbs. She

was glad of the darkness.

Flushing, she wondered how it was the searing liquid fire of his kiss

touched her breast, yet sent the molten longing to swirl to the base of

her abdomen, and lower still to hover and deepen at the apex of her

thighs.

It did not matter where he touched. He continued to kiss her as he

slowly eased the buckskin from her body. He kissed the nape of her neck,

and the tip of his tongue hovered at her earlobe, then ran a trail down

her spine as he shifted her body to toss aside the dress. He kissed the

inside of her upper arm, and she had never imagined that a touch could

elicit such wild stirrings within her. Nor did he allow his kisses to

stop there.

Soon she was lying prone upon the verdant earth again, so close to the

water that it lapped at her ankles. And even the touch of the water

added to the wonder and the magic. It caressed her as the breeze did, as

his every touch did. She was whispering things to him, things she should

never have said, things about the wonder and desire he created. She

struggled to touch him in return, to know more and more of him. Her

teeth sank gently upon his shoulders, and her tongue laved every tiny

little wound. Her fingers stroked and massaged his shoulders and

trembled over every ripple and bulge of his muscle beneath her touch.

She shed his shirt, nearly ripping the buttons from it. She touched his

chest with her tongue, and she moved lower and lower against him.

But then she found herself prone again, and his hands and lips were

moving magic upon her. His kiss touched her, searingly hot. The cool

water lapped over her feet and ankles, but the whole of her was achingly

hot, a fire against the water. His lips touched her bare belly, and the

arches of her feet, and her knees and her thighs. And then he kissed her

warmly, intimately, at the very heart of her desire, kissed her body as

he would kiss her lips, demanding all and giving her ecstasy in turn.

And still the cool stream washed against her. In the end she rose

against him, and they knelt together in the shallows in the night, and

her breasts moved against his chest as their lips fused once again, and

then the fullness of their bodies. She led him down then to the rich

earth, and crawled atop him, her hair a blaze of sunset kissed by the

moon, ~r movements smooth and sultry as the touch of golden locks swung

over his chest and belly.

In the magic of the night, to the rough and urgent murmurings of his

husky voice, she rode the magic of the darkness, and of the man, until

the beauty exploded within them and around them, until the sweet

satiation and exhaustion seized them, until they were filled with one

another. Only then did she fall against him. She didn't care about the

future or the past; she only knew that she had come to him because she

had wanted him. And because she loved him.

Nothing else mattered, for she had learned that time and life and love

were precious, and this night she had all three.

They were silent together as the moon cast its gentle glow on them.

He stroked her hair softly and at long last he whispered, "It's

true--Nalte sent you to me?" She nodded happily against his chest.

"It's true," she whispered.

"Thank God," he breathed.

"He's very upset."

"He is?"

"He doesn't like the idea that von Heusen has been causing so much

trouble.

He told me that the Apache raid, and that they make war, and that these