On the western prairies of Nebraska, Eden befriends the handsome Pawnee half breed Indian, Brant. Over the years, he treats her with unrelenting respect and they fall madly in love, vowing to be together forever. But when Eden’s father discovers she’s with child, he sends her away.
When Eden returns home with her son to settle her dead father’s affairs, it challenges everything she left behind. Brant shows up to lay claim to his son, his feelings for her lost in his anger toward Eden’s betrayal and abandonment.
Despite the tensions between them, Eden and Brant share an undeniable attraction. Their tentative bond could be shattered when a tragic injury befalls their son.
EXCERPT:
A sudden breeze rattled a shutter and drew her gaze to the window of her room. For a moment, she thought the strangely familiar sound would force her to remember something good about her childhood. Yet, her best recollections always vanished under her worst memories.
“Mama, there’s an Indian riding this way,” Charlie exclaimed.
Eden spun around and looked to where he pointed toward the western horizon. Gusts of wind across the prairie threw dust in her eyes, blinding her from seeing what Charlie did.
The cloudy afternoon, the distant rumble of a storm and the glare from the setting sun made it hard to focus as well. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and stared at the fast-approaching lone rider.
“Do you think he’s dangerous?” Charlie asked.
Eden didn’t answer—she couldn’t speak. A long-suppressed emotion rose from her heart, choking her voice as she stared at the shadowy image that took form. She placed her hand on the side of the wagon for support. It didn’t stop the trembling in her legs or the shiver of apprehension rolling along her spine.
“Is he going to scalp us?” Charlie moved closer, his hand seeking hers.
Putting her arm around his small shoulders, she mustered up courage she didn’t feel. She tried to keep her voice steady and reassuring when she answered, “No, dear.”
Luckily, Charlie’s fixation on the Indian prevented him from noticing her rattled tone.
“What do you think he wants?” Charlie whispered.
What wouldn’t she do to have a gypsy fortuneteller’s crystal ball to know that answer? Since arriving back in the Nebraska Territory and stepping off the stagecoach at the trading post, she feared only one Indian—Brant Sullette. The Chawi Pawnee half-breed threatened her sanity, not her safety. He had been the one person she had longed to see and at the same time dreaded to face.
A billow of dust swirled around the horse’s legs as Brant reined in the animal. There was no man on Earth who portrayed masculinity the way Brant did. The impressive sight of him made her heart stall. Wide-shouldered with sunbaked skin, his body rippled with muscle. But his stone-like facial features alleged nothing soft about him, not even his heart.
“He doesn’t look very happy,” Charlie remarked.
Eden struggled to breathe. Words wouldn’t come and her thoughts rolled like tumbleweeds in her head. The time away from Sweet Grove had solved some of her problems, but not the one giving her an imposing glare.
Brant’s stillness hinted something was more wrong than her return. She didn’t dare think of why his severe look blended anger and contempt into a neat package. It wasn’t how she had envisioned meeting him again.
