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water course for a quarter of a mile to the spot where he’d seen the girl. He found the cut inthe bank that she had used to reach the sandy bar and angled his horse down it, following the tracks of her mount. At his approach, her bay horse whickered an inquiry, but the girl splashing in the water was oblivious to his presence. Chase rode to the log and leaned sideways in the saddle to scoop up the clothes hanging on the stump of a limb.
    The water was cold and invigorating. Maggie had discovered that if she kept moving, its chilling temperature was tolerable. It was a minor discomfort when measured against the pleasurable sensation of all that clear, sparkling water flowing over her skin. Along this stretch of the river, the water was only chest-deep. Maggie let her feet sink to the bottom and pushed the heavy wetness of her long hair behind her back, wiping the water from her face.
    â€œNow, who do you suppose these clothes belong to?” The taunting question went through her like an electric shock.
    She pivoted in the water, nearly losing her balance, as her rounded eyes sought the intruder. Chase Calder was leaning forward in his saddle, an arm resting on the horn, holding
her
clothes in his hand. The first shock of embarrassment gave way to outrage.
    â€œYou put those back where you found them and get out of here!” Maggie faced him, her arms floating atop the water to keep her balance.
    â€œAre these yours?” He feigned surprise, which only angered her more.
    â€œYou know they are.”
    Chase held them up to examine them. “They can’t be. They’re a man’s clothes, too big for a little thing like you,” he mocked.
    â€œThey’re mine—and you know it!” She had stopped moving and the chilling water began to numb her flesh. She had to hold her jaw tight to keep her teeth from chattering.
    â€œBut I don’t know that,” he insisted.
    â€œYou put them back, Chase Calder!” Her voice was trembling, from anger and the invading cold. “You put them back and ride out of here!”
    â€œI can’t do that.” Rolling the clothes into a bundle, Chase half-turned in the saddle to tie them behind the cantle.
    Maggie watched him with growing panic. “What are you doing?”
    â€œTaking them with me, of course,” he replied, finishing the tie and straightening around to gather up the horse’s reins. “There’s some poor cowboy walking around out there with no clothes on. We can’t have that.” He clicked to his horse and reined it away from the river.
    Panic filled her when she realized he was actually going to leave with her clothes. “No! They’re mine! You bring them back here!” Alarm was in her voice, weakening its anger to fear.
    Checking his horse, he turned it in a quarter-pivot so it was standing parallel with the river. Iron hooves clattered on the sandy gravel of the bar as the horse shifted impatiently, waiting for its rider to make up his mind where they were going.
    The sunlight striking the crystal-clear water of the river turned its surface to glass. From his vantage point in the saddle, Chase saw the naked white shape of her body beneath the water—slim and high-breasted. He had a young man’s appetites, and the spring roundup had meant a long fasting period, so the sight of her easily aroused him.
    In the beginning, Chase had intended only to take her clothes and ride off a ways before leaving them where she could find them. Now he was unconsciously changing his plans, wanting to see her without the distortion of the water to interfere with the sight.
    â€œIf they are your clothes, why don’t you come and get them?” he challenged smoothly.
    Maggie drew in a sharp breath, sensing a change in the air. Some new undercurrent was present, vaguely threatening. She sank a little deeper in the freezing water, its coldness lapping into the hollows of her