Logan McCutcheon returns to colonial Virginia after seven years in the hands of Shawnee Indians. But was he really a captive, as everybody thinks? He looks and fights like a warrior, and seems eager to return to those he calls friends and family.
Kira McClure has waited for Logan all those years, passing herself off as odd to keep suitors at bay––and anyone else from getting too close. Now that he's back, he seems to be the only person capable of protecting her from the advances of Josiah Campbell and accusations of witchcraft. And to defend the settlers against a well-organized band of murderous thieves.
He threw back his head and laughed.
Disconcerting. Most people simply stared at her or shook their heads when she acted peculiar, not this undisguised mirth. “I can’t imagine why you’re taking on like this.”
“No?” He succumbed to another paroxysm of laughter. “I must admit you’re good.”
A lift of her chin. “At what, pray tell?”
Stiffening her reply, she said, “I haven’t the faintest notion what you mean.”
He wiped his eyes on the wide sleeve of his loosely belted shirt. “Haven’t you, now?”
Her eyes strayed to his browned chest where the earth-colored cloth gapped open at his neck. “Not at all.”
“If you truly wish me to think you tetched, dim the brightness in your gaze. Try for a more vacant expression.”
“I can manage quite well without direction from you. “ She hesitated. “I mean––”
"I know what you mean. I see you’re quite the actress.”
Shifting her gaze from the intensity in his expression to the swaying branches, she asked, “How so?”
“I could always see right through you.”
An odd flop in her stomach and she slid her gaze back to his penetrating eyes. “Always? “
“Don’t you know me, Cricket?”
“Good heavens,” she breathed out, and leaned weakly against the tree. She could have toppled to the forest floor. Only two people had ever called her by that name and this definitely wasn’t her brother. The teasing youth she’d adored had returned a man in warrior’s clothing, hardened now, tested by wind and fire. “Logan? “
Married to my high school sweetheart, I live on a farm in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia surrounded by my children, grandbabies, and assorted animals. An avid gardener, my love of herbs and heirloom plants figures into my work. The rich history of Virginia, the Native Americans and the people who journeyed here from far beyond her borders are at the heart of my inspiration. In addition to American settings, I also write historical and time travel romances set in the British Isles.
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