They'd been in camp more than a week before he finally found himself alone with her. He'd returned to his campsite by the water to find her washing out the boys' clothes. For a while he stood watching her, wishing he could touch her. He needed her near as dearly as he needed air, but he wasn't about to tell her.

Finally, he walked to the water and squatted down five feet from her. "Talk to me, Sage. I miss you”

"I don't have anything to say and, if I did, I'd probably use the wrong words, and you'd bite my head off."

"I didn't bite your head off."

"Yes you did." She kept working, beating the clothes as he was sure she would have liked to beat on him.

He moved a few more feet away for safety and changed the subject. "God, how I've missed touching you. Sometimes at night I can almost feel your skin. You've got the softest skin in a few places. Like just under your breasts. I-"

"Stop it," she snapped. "You said you wouldn't speak of such things."

"Me? You're the one who didn't keep your word. You forgot about my one rule.”

"I didn't forget. I decided you wouldn't be interested." He frowned. "Doing my thinking for me now. Doc?"

"Well, somebody needs to. You obviously don't waste time doing any."

He took a step toward her and noticed the braves standing behind her at the tree line. Four men, all with arms folded. All watching. They might not hear or understand what he was saying, but he had no doubt that if he laid one hand on Sage, they had orders what to do.

Drum backed away. "You know, Sage, lately, I'm starting to believe in reincarnation.”

She looked up at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"I figure I must have had an earlier life and done something terrible. That's why I've got to go through this life attracted to only one woman in the world and she determined to either kill me or drive me insane. No matter how I look at it, wanting you is terminal.”

She didn't look like she cared.

He fought down his irritation. "But we made an agreement by your grandfather's time clock, and I've lived up to my half. You don't have to even talk to me, but I want you to meet me at the stand of oaks between here and the camp at dusk and live up to your word."

She stood and walked away without even looking back.

So much for being forceful, he thought. She'd come or stay in the camp, whichever she liked. He had a feeling his demands had very little to do with it.

How could he tell her that he didn't want to own her, or boss her around, or control her? He just wanted to be with her as an equal. But part of Sage was still the princess of Whispering Mountain, and part of him was still the outlaw kid. Until she saw him as her man, nothing would really change between them, even if he did kiss her.

Drum stayed away from the camp most of the afternoon. If his mood got any blacker, it would block the sun. He rode in and tied Satan to one of the oaks just as the sun was touching the horizon. Turning, he watched the sunset, not allowing himself to stare at the camp to see if she was coming.

He didn't wait long before he heard her steps, but he didn't move until she touched his arm. He turned and kissed her with all the longing he'd felt for days.

She was cold in his arms for a few seconds, then she warmed little by little. She wasn't kissing him back, but she wasn't protesting. He kissed her as tenderly as he could, even though every muscle in his body wanted to crush her against him.

When she pulled away, he fought for a moment before letting her go. She didn't say a word. They turned and walked toward the campfire. They weren't touching, but he no longer felt the cold. As usual, they hadn't made peace, they'd only drawn a truce. It wasn't what either one of them wanted, but it would have to do.

As they ate, he said a few words to her, and she nodded. She passed him a slice of meat, and he thanked her. Drum spent the night alone, in thought. There were so many things about her he admired. He even found her temper fascinating to watch. The fact that she didn't like him most of the time didn't bother him; that fact hadn't changed in years. The fact that she wouldn't sleep with him did. He knew she wanted to. Maybe she was waiting for him to say the right words, but he wouldn't draw her in with fancy talk. If she came to him, she'd come for one reason: she couldn't stay away.

The next night she met him again. When he kissed her, he felt her warming in his arms. The kiss lasted a long time before she pulled away. As before, she turned without speaking to him.

"Good night," he whispered.

She didn't answer.

The following evening, she came to him wrapped in a blanket for warmth. Fog had moved in, making them seem even more isolated in the stand of trees. He gently pushed her against the trunk of the oak and opened the blanket. Then, leaning, he pressed his body hard against hers as he began the kiss.

She lifted her arms, enclosing them both with the blanket. He deepened the kiss as his hands brushed along her ribs. She reacted, pulling him to her and returning his kiss with passion. He laughed at the slight moan she whispered into his ear as his hand moved over her breast.

She was hungry for his touch. His wild Sage of fire could not stay ice for long.

As the sun's gray light faded and the oak branches shaded them completely, he slowly drove her mad with his caress. One thought crept in with all the feelings raging in his mind and body: He wondered if they could go a lifetime without talking and live each night like this. She was liquid fire in his arms, playful, loving, and demanding, and he was her mate.

When she pushed away, he let her go, even though every part of him wanted her to stay. She staggered, still out of breath.

"I'll walk you back," he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"No," she said. "I'm all right."

He put his arm around her shoulders. "I'll see you to your door.”

Thanks to the fog, they moved through the camp without seeing anyone, even though the sounds of people moving and talking drifted around them. Tonight the meal would be taken in tepees.

As they rounded her tent, he pulled her between the thick racks of leaves and plants she was drying. "I have to kiss you again. I'm not ready to say good night." He cupped her face. "Do you mind?"

"No," she answered, opening her blanket once more. "I'm also in the mood for more”

He'd sworn when he was ten that he'd never say he was sorry for anything he said or did, but as he unbuttoned her blouse, he found himself whispering, "Forgive me," even though, for the life of him, he couldn't remember doing anything wrong.

"I always do." She laughed as he shoved his hand beneath the material and gripped her breast still warm from his touch. She leaned her head back as he lowered his mouth and tasted her flesh. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes."

His arm braced her back as he feasted on the softest spot he'd found. When he covered her wet breast with his hand and returned to her mouth, she melted against him in welcome.

She was his, warm and ready. She was his, he thought as he kissed her. She just didn't know it yet.

She was out of breath when he finally set her gently away from him.

"Come to me tonight, Sage. We're not finished.”

She let him hold her for a while before she answered, "I'll think about it.”

"Don't think. Come," he said as he let her go.

That night, around the small evening fire in Grandfather's tepee, neither said a word, but her gaze often rested on him, and he saw the passion building in her eyes.

The fog remained when he returned to his campsite. Tonight he couldn't see the Apache tents, and he felt totally alone. He lit a small fire so she could find him if she came, then he lay down and waited.

It was after midnight when he heard her cross through the trees. The swish of her skirt against the tall grass made him smile. Without a word, he lifted the blanket and let her slip in beside him.

Her body was cold against his. For a while, he just held her, warming her.

“Are you sure?" he whispered into her hair.

"I'm sure.” she answered. ”To my great surprise, it seems you're the one man I can't live without. I don't want to live without."

He waited until her heart slowed, then he began making love to her. She was ready, welcoming him against her, moving as he moved, answering every touch with one of her own.

When he started to unbutton her blouse, she stopped him. "I can do it.” she whispered.

"No. I'd like to, if you've no objection.”

She moved her hand away. "All right. If it pleases you, go ahead."

"It pleases me greatly." He kissed her temple. "You made me very happy by coming tonight. Now it's my turn”

He leaned close and whispered of her beauty as his hands worked the buttons and ribbons free. She tried to unbutton his shirt, but her hands trembled, and he ended up rolling away to tug off his own clothes. When he returned and pulled her against him, she laughed nervously.

He brought her slowly to passion, taking time to caress every part of her. He pulled her hair free of the braids and wrapped it in his fist as he kissed her full and deep. When she was warm and shaking with need, he pressed his body over her, loving the way her soft curves molded against him in invitation.

When he pushed into her, she cried out softly, and he froze. Reason sliced through the desire, and he forced himself to lift his weight so that he was no longer crushing her, even though he didn't pull away.

"Am I hurting you?" he whispered in a voice raw with passion.

"No, not so much?" She took a deep breath and relaxed against him. "I knew it would be uncomfortable; I was a virgin” Her voice was low as her body moved, begging him to continue.