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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.
Head tilted to one side, he appraised her with a keen eye, approval in his gaze. “The years between us don’t seem to make such a difference now, do they?”
A shiver darted through her. “Not like they once did.”
He ran his fingers lightly over her cheek. “I’ll have to make amends for my past neglect.”
Her chest thudded wildly. “Will you?”
As though she’d issued an invitation, Logan slid closer to her so they were pressed thigh to thigh, nearer than she’d sat to any man. He turned, circling an arm around her waist, and drew her into his hard chest. His low voice a shivery whisper in her ear, he said, “This’ll do for a start.”
Too stunned to speak, she wondered if her galloping heart might give out altogether. This must be a dream. He couldn’t be real. Yet he felt wonderfully solid and smelled of the sun-warmed earth mingled with his own appealing essence, heightening her acute awareness of him. But he was overtaking her with the sudden fury of a gale.
She found her tongue. “I hardly know what to think.”
He didn’t loosen his grip. “Don’t think just yet.”
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