Free Judith E French by Morgan's Woman Page A

seeing in his mind was long past.
    Reason told him that he had to get on his feet … had to go after his escaped prisoner. But his skull was splitting. It was easier to lie on the warm ground and think about nothing at all.
    A branch whipped across Tamsin’s face, but she paid no heed to the sting and spurred Ash Morgan’s strawberry roan into a hard trot.
    She hadn’t planned on bashing him over the head, but she’d found herself standing there with the stick in her hand. She’d realized that she would probably never have a better chance of getting away. If she hadn’t taken his horse, he’d soon be on her trail again.
    Ash would survive. He’d have a long walk back to Sweetwater, but she’d left him his rifle and handgun. What more could he ask?
    She wondered if she was going to spend the rest of her life running. Horse stealing was a hanging offense. She’d been innocent of that charge when they’d written up a warrant for her arrest. Now she was as guilty as sin.
    “Horse thief.” She tried out the phrase. It sounded ugly … despicable. She’d never stolen so much as a penny’s worth of candy in her life.
    No wonder there were so many desperadoes in the West, she mused. One mistake, and an honest person could find themselves on a wanted poster.
    For what it was worth, she intended to leave Ash’s roan gelding at the next town, but that probably wouldn’t count for much if she was captured and faced a jury.
    A rabbit dashed out of the bushes, and the gelding leaped sideways. Tamsin kept her seat easily. Her two horses were following close behind. She’d thought it wiser to ride Ash’s mount. Leading an unwilling horse would have been a problem in these trees, especially since Dancer kept sneaking up to take nips out of his rump.
    Tamsin hoped the mountain lion was far away. It had fled uphill, leaving her an escape route back down the way she had come the day before. She knew from her map that she needed to find a pass through these foothills, and she remembered the entrance to a promising valley she’d seen on the way in.
    Ash would think the worst of her. She hated to leave him with the impression that she was a killer and a horse thief.
    “Damn you, Atwood MacGreggor,” she swore. “I hope your coffin leaks.” It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been such a jackass’s behind, she’d be back in Tennessee sipping lemonade on her own front porch.… And maybe Granddad’s heart wouldn’t have given out so soon.
    She’d realized that she’d made a mistake on her wedding night. Atwood had embarrassed her with crude remarksand selfishly taken his pleasure on her rigid body. Worse, he’d blamed her when his red-faced thrusting met no resistance.
    He’d called her a whore, accusing her of not being a virgin. That was a lie, but she’d had no way to prove her innocence … any more than she could prove her innocence to Ash Morgan.
    Her honeymoon with Atwood had been a great disappointment. Afterward, she’d wondered what all the fuss was about mating and why some women were willing to risk everything for illicit affairs with men not their lawful husbands.
    Tamsin removed her hat and wiped the sweat off her forehead. If Atwood MacGreggor had looked anything like Ash Morgan in the altogether, perhaps she could have mustered a little more enthusiasm for his husbandly attentions.
    Just thinking about Ash’s naked body made her mouth go dry and butterflies flutter in the pit of her stomach. There must be something sinful in her if she could take such pleasure in remembering the dark sprinkling of hair that ran down his flat belly to the tightly curled mat above his sex.… Or the way drops of water glistened on his muscular arms.
    Even if things were different between them, if Ash hadn’t been a bounty hunter paid to bring her back to Sweetwater, it would make no difference. A good-looking man like Ash Morgan would never be interested in her.
    Growing up, she’d had no woman to teach her