Getting George to give her directions to Fairhaven had been—as Hazel would say—easy as pie. Certainly easier than navigating the snow-covered and sometimes icy road Lacey was on. She'd simply expressed an interest in the distance she and the marshal would be traveling, and in any obstacles they might encounter, and George had told her, without any qualms, that they'd be taking Three Forks Road between Geneva Lake and Lake Whatcom, and down into the bay communities. Nothing to it, she'd thought to herself.

Now, thirty minutes later, she was realizing there was a whole lot more to it than that.

Though breathtakingly beautiful, everything around her looked exactly the same. The same snow-heavy trees, the same snow-covered rocks, the same bends in the road, the same silence in the air. And with every successive plod of the horse beneath her, the risk of her getting lost out here in the middle of nowhere increased to almost overwhelming proportions.

"All you've got to do is stick to the road, Lacey," she told herself. "Easy as pie."

At least she was warm, even though the sun was still hanging low in the morning sky, and an occasional frigid breeze pressed against her exposed face. She was dressed in the two union suits Hazel had bought for her, the two pairs of bloomers, and the yellow muslin dress. She was bundled up in her fleece-lined coat with the wide collar hiked up past her chin. She had on her lined gloves, and she was wearing her boots over two pairs of itchy wool socks that she'd found in the bottom drawer of the dresser in her room. She'd even taken a towel out of Hazel's linen closet and was wearing that as a scarf over her head to protect her ears. She felt like an overstuffed turkey jammed into a miniature oven, but she was warm.

She would make it to Fairhaven, and she would recover that money—even if she had to steal it back—and then she would ride into Tranquility and toss it in Matthew Brady's face. Mission accomplished.

Then she'd finally have to face the task of figuring out what, exactly, she intended to do with the rest of her life.

First she had to find Lorraine Rawlins. She had Henry's ring tucked down inside her purse, which was tucked down inside one of her saddlebags. She planned to start with the choice hotels in Fairhaven and work her way down, bandying the name of Henrietta Rodgers around as if she were searching for a long-lost friend. Lorraine was bound to be curious rather than suspicious of a woman asking about her, and Lacey figured she'd have her prey before the day was out.

The horse beneath her pricked its ears at a bird fluttering through one of the trees and Lacey reached forward and patted his neck. He was a handsome animal, red in color with a dark stripe running down the length of his back. "You and I are doing just fine on our own, aren't we, Big Red?“ she said to him. She couldn't wait to see Matthew Brady's face when she handed him all that money.

And then Big Red stopped cold in his tracks, and Lacey glanced up and realized why. They'd come to a fork in the road, and the horse didn't know which way to go. Of course, neither did she. She supposed if there hadn't been so much slushy snow on the ground she might have known the main road just by the wheel ruts in the dirt, but all she saw before her now were two distinct paths going at two distinctly different angles to her original direction.

"Now what?" she muttered.

She stood in the stirrups, stared down one path and then the other, trying to make out anything in the distance that might distinguish either direction as the road she was supposed to take. Nothing stood out. She sat back down in disgust.

Big Red shuffled beneath her, probably sensing his rider's disquiet.

"A lot of help you are," she said to him. "Aren't you local boys supposed to know the way to the big city?"

He snorted and tugged at the bit in his mouth.

“Then I don't suppose you know a place where we can stop and ask for directions?"

The horse blinked in the sunlight.

"Too hard on the pride, huh? Just like a man. Well…” She studied her two choices carefully. "I choose the left. It looks a little smoother, and widens out quite a bit past those trees there. To the left, faithful steed.” She touched her heels to the animal's flanks.

A few minutes later, Lacey rode into a large flat clearing with nothing but snow surrounding her and trees and mountains in the distance. Since arriving in the nineteenth century she'd never seen such a large clearing in the woods. Normally the thick-trunked trees grew so close together she had to turn sideways to walk between them.

She heard something and reined in Big Red. A loud pop! She probably wouldn't have paid any attention to the sound if the silence around her hadn't been so oppressive. The horse beneath her grew animated, prancing sideways, snorting and tossing its head as it tried to take control of the bit in its mouth. But Lacey kept a firm grip on the reins and managed to settle him down.

She frowned at the scene around her, both peaceful and foreboding, and knew she’d taken the wrong road. She tugged on the reins, but didn't have to exert much pressure to turn Big Red around; he seemed all for the idea. And then Lacey realized why.

There was another loud pop! Followed by a sharp, spine-tingling crack! And then a loud racing sound—as if a million marbles had been dropped onto a linoleum floor. The ground beneath Big Red's hind legs gave way.

The animal bellowed and lunged forward, its hindquarters dropping like a falling elevator. She lost the reins and scrambled to hold onto the saddle horn, but the horse's frantic struggles to save itself sent her tumbling backward over the cantle. She plunged into an icy darkness that shocked her heart and ripped the air from her lungs.

* * *

Matthew had been following Lacey Guarder's trail for almost thirty minutes. It wouldn’t be long before he caught up to her. He still hadn’t decided what he was going to do once he got his hands on her, but one thing was for certain: she was gonna give him a damn good reason for why that money was so important to her she'd risk riding off alone through the cold wilderness to get it.

He came to the fork in the road that led to a small lake named Geneva on the left, and would take him to the tri-cities of Fairhaven, Sehome, and Whatcom to the right. He reined in his horse, and stared down at the tracks in the snow. He looked off toward the lake and frowned. “Now why did she ride that way?”

A loud, heart-stopping scream cut through the cold air. He dug his heels into his horse's flanks and raced toward the lake. The frigid wind tore at his face, and watered his eyes. He prayed his horse wouldn't slip on the treacherous path. He finally broke into the lake's clearing, and the first thing he saw was Big Red charging toward him. A little farther out, he saw a bright head of coppery hair sticking up from a hole in the ice.

Panic seized him. “Damn it, woman!"

He swung down from his horse, and grabbed his rope from his saddle. He tied one end of the rope to his pommel, and then marched out over the ice until he was about ten feet from her. He could see she was struggling to hold onto the edge, fighting to keep her head above water. The temperature alone would kill her within minutes.

"Get me out of here!" she cried. "Get me out!"

He stretched out flat, and then scooted the rest of the way on his belly.

Her lips were blue. That was the first thing he noticed when he gave one last push with his feet and came face to face with her. That and her teeth were chattering like castanets. The air pockets beneath her clothes had puffed her up like a giant blowfish. But the water had saturated her clothing, tripling her weight, preventing her from crawling out on her own.

She grabbed hold of the collar of his coat. "What t-took you s-so long?" she whispered, clenching her jaw against the cold.

He pulled off his gloves with his teeth and crammed them into his back pocket. "Maybe you should have waited for me at Three Forks like we'd obviously planned."

"L-leave it t-to a man t-to k-keep a g-girl waiting."

He leaned closer and reached into the water to wrap his rope around her back. His hand went numb the instant it came into contact with the icy water, but Matthew barely noticed as the side of his face brushed against hers and he caught the spicy cinnamon scent of her. Her cheek was so close to his mouth, he could have pressed his warm lips against it with barely a thought.

She was shivering loudly, and he quickly finished his task, and pulled back from her. Her breaths were beginning to come in quick, shallow gasps, and he knew that getting her out of the water wasn't going to be his biggest problem. Warming her up before hypothermia set in was going to be the tricky part. But he couldn't think about that now.

He tied two good knots, securing the rope around her chest. "Get ready."

She held on tightly to his collar. "W-where are you g-going?" Her voice was raspy and keyed up with panic.

"To pull you out.

"Y-you w-wouldn't leave a g-girl, would ya?"

It was a question tinged with sarcasm, but Matthew could see the fear in her tawny eyes. She was afraid he was going to turn around and leave her there. "I'm going to pull you out," he said firmly. But she still wasn't letting him go. Knowing they had little time, he took hold of her gloved hand and pried it from his coat, placing it instead on the rope around her chest. "Hold on," he told her, and began scooting backward.

A few yards back, he climbed to his feet and hurried to his horse. "Come on, boy." He used his shoulders to crowd the animal, compelling it backward. "Come on, boy, back up."

He heard the ice crack, and looked back to see it giving way where Lacey was being dragged forward, providing a perfect ramp for her to be pulled out. He continued to crowd his horse until Lacey was lying on a thicker span of ice. Then he strode toward her, took her by the back of her coat, and dragged her the rest of the way to the bank.

She was shivering so loudly it was a hum in his ears. He dropped down beside her and took hold of her chin to look into her eyes. She was dazed, unfocused, and mumbling incoherently. Her complexion had a bluish tinge, and she was chilled to the touch. The lake hadn't claimed her, but the cold still might. If he didn't warm her up quick, she would die from exposure.

He cut the rope from around her, and then made short work of stripping off her wet coat and gloves. The towel around her head had managed to stay above the water, and he used it to dry off her hands and feet after he'd taken off her sodden boots. Then he dressed her in his coat and gloves, quickly packed up her wet things, and then picked her up and put her in his saddle. He swung up behind her on his horse, and with his arms wrapped around her shivering body, he set out for the nearest shelter.

Geneva was the closest town, but it was still five miles to the west and uphill all the way. Knowing of a closer, easier-to-reach place, he galloped his horse back up the road in the direction he'd come. He spotted the carvings in the tree that marked the spot he was looking for, and turned onto a narrow path that led straight to the mouth of a large cave.

Big Red wasn't far behind, following faithfully as Matthew rode directly into the cave and dismounted. Lacey collapsed into his arms. He laid her down on the soft, dirt ground and turned to retrieve his bedroll. After spreading out the blankets, he bundled her up in them and then crouched down beside her.

"Miss Guarder? Lacey, can you hear me?" Her violent shivers were echoing loudly through the cave. He took hold of her chin and looked into her unfocused eyes. "You have to get out of these wet clothes. Do you hear me? You're going to freeze to death if you don't get them off."

“W-wet c-clothes," she repeated, nodding. She at least agreed with his assessment.

"Can you stand?" He frowned, wondering if she could even hear him above the sound of her own shivering. She was shaking so violently he doubted she could sit up, let alone undress.

And then her eyes focused on his. "W-where are w-we?" she asked.

"A cave.

"A c-cave? C-could you start a f-fire or s-something? I'm r-really c-c-cold."

"A fire won't do you any good if you're soaked to the bone. We have to get your wet clothes off."

He reached for the coat he'd let her borrow, but she crossed her arms to prevent him from taking it. "I'll f-freeze w-without it!" she cried angrily.

"You'll freeze with it, goddamn it. Listen to me. We’re wasting time." He reached out and yanked his gloves off her small hands and she let out a faint cry of protest. He ignored it, and the other weak signs of resistance she offered as he forcefully uncrossed her arms and finally got his coat off her. Her shivering increased.

"Y-you're g-going to k-kill me," she rasped.

She was going to kill herself if she didn't give him a little cooperation. He reached for the buttons on the front of her dress, but only managed to undo four of them before she realized what he was doing and slapped his hands away. "G-get a-away from m-me!"

"Listen, lady, you can fight me till the sun turns as blue as your lips, but these clothes have to come off.”

"G-go to h-hell!"

They were wasting precious time, and Matthew knew he wasn't going to get her undressed without a fight. So he pulled the long knife out of the scabbard inside his boot.

She let out a gasp when he brought it toward her throat. He ignored her look of horror and took hold of the neckline of her dress. "This is for your own good," he said.

He sliced the garment down the center.

Matthew's challenge changed from getting her undressed, to cutting her clothes off without slicing her skin to ribbons. Considering what she'd just been through, he was surprised she had any fight left in her, but then he reminded himself that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary woman.

"Hold still, dammit.” He finally pinned her to the ground with his arm over her chest. "I'm tryin’ to help you.”

"Don't t-touch me!" she kept shouting, squirming frantically. "Don't t-touch me!"

He cut off her dress, cut off two pairs of bloomers, and finally cut through her union suit, only to find that she had another one on underneath. “Lord almighty, woman, how much have you got on?"

Her strength had waned considerably by this time, and he had no trouble slipping the edge of his knife between her last article of clothing and the delicate, pale skin at the base of her throat. In order to protect her skin from the double-edged knife, he made a small incision in the wet cotton material, and then took hold of the edges with his fingers.

Up until that point Matthew had been too busy fighting Lacey to really think about what he was doing. But now she was calm, close to unconsciousness, he suspected, and the instant his warm fingers came into contact with her soft, silky skin, he was reminded of just exactly what he was about to do.

He was about to strip her naked.

He hesitated for the first time since finding her in the lake. She was lying beneath him, still shivering like a leaf, freezing, and half-conscious, and his mind was beginning to race with all kinds of lascivious thoughts. Sure, she was aggravating as hell, infuriating to the core, but he was only human, for God's sake. He was a man, and she was a beautiful woman—and he wasn't made of stone.

So here he was, about to get a good look at what his mind had only imagined up to this point, and he was terrified by the prospect. So far he'd been able to control this strange desire he'd felt for her since the moment he'd set eyes on her. But what would happen when all her charms were spread out before him like a Sunday morning buffet?

And then what? he allowed himself to wonder. His bedroll, and whatever meager fire he could manage to build out of the few scraps of wood lying about the cave floor, weren't going to warm her up quickly or thoroughly enough.

He closed his eyes and groaned. Shared body heat was the only answer. Which meant her clothes wouldn't be the only ones coming off.

He was doomed.

She let out a soft moan. He put his knife away and bent back over her. He could see the outline of her perfect body through her tight, wet union suit: the length of her sleek legs, the curve of her hips, the lush fullness of her breasts. Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the cut edges of her neckline and tore the sodden material down the center. He did his best not to look, catching only peripheral glimpses of creamy skin. He cut two more slashes in the garment along the inside of each leg and then tore it off of her as well.

“D-don’t…don't t-touch me," she whispered in her delirium.

God help him, he had no choice.

He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders, and pulled the sleeves of her wet union suit off her. She shivered and curled against his chest, instinctively pressing her face against the warmth of his neck. He’d never felt such torture in his life.

He stepped back and she curled up into a tight ball to shiver uncontrollably.

He began unbuttoning his shirt, all the while reminding himself that his loyalty was to Amanda, the woman he intended to marry. Some day.

He quickly shucked his clothes and the cold air in the cave made the breath catch in his chest. Keeping his eyes averted, he knelt down and crawled beneath the blankets with her.

He didn't even have to pull Lacey toward him. The moment he lay down beside her, she turned eagerly into his heat and curved herself against him, tucking every cold appendage she had into every warm crevasse he possessed. It felt like he was being doused in ice.

She buried her face against his neck, shivering in his ear. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his arms around her and began vigorously rubbing her back. Her icy skin felt like cold silk beneath his palms. After a few minutes her shivering stopped. She sighed in his ear and fell fast asleep.

Matthew closed his eyes, trying to remain detached. He could feel every inch of her soft body pressing up against his own. Her legs were entwined with his. Her warm, sweet breath was tickling the side of his neck. He was out of his mind to subject himself—completely out of his mind.

"Lacey, what you do to me," he whispered hoarsely.

He pulled back and looked into her fragile beautiful face. She shifted, and her head lolled back and settled into the crook of his arm. He mentally traced the fine, high arch of her copper eyebrows, the straight, delicate line of her nose, the full, lush lines of her lips.

She sighed in her sleep, and he gave in to impulse; he bent forward and brushed his lips over hers. A thousand tiny sparks shot through his body. He pulled back in surprise. His breathing picked up. His heart pounded. An unmistakable craving took hold of him. And, like a starving man getting his first taste of food, he wanted more.

That's when she opened her eyes.