New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller gave readers “a gift to treasure” (Romantic Times) with her acclaimed Springwater Seasons novels. Now, once again capturing the spirit of early America, she delivers a marvelous tale of love, family loyalty, and passionate desire on the Western frontier—where fairy tales sometimes do come true. She was the only child of a rich and powerful rancher. He was the son of a drunken ne’er-do-well. But when eleven-year-old Luke Shardlow rescued eight-year-old Charity Barnham from drowning, she promised him one wish...any wish his heart might desire. Fifteen years later, Charity and Luke meet once more, but the gulf between them seems as wide as ever. Charity is engaged to a neighboring rancher her father has chosen for her. Luke still seems to be a Shardlow to the core—a drifter, maybe even an outlaw, on a road to nowhere. But things are not always what they appear, for Luke has a few secrets to hide. And as a sweet, sensual passion begins to grow between them, Luke and Charity discover that the only wish either of them long to fulfill is to spend a sweet eternity in each other’s arms—no matter the cost. Magical. Ms. Miller touches our hearts again in a very special way. Do not miss this wonderful story. -- Old Book Barn Gazette She was the only child of a rich and powerful rancher. He was the son of a drunken ne'er-do-well. But when eleven-year-old Luke Shardlow rescued eight-year-old Charity Barnham from drowning, she promised him one wish . . . any wish his heart might desire. Fifteen years later, Charity and Luke meet once more, but the gulf between them seems as wide as ever. Charity is engaged to a neighboring rancher her father has chosen for her. Luke still seems to be a Shardlow to the core a drifter, maybe even an outlaw, on a road to nowhere. But things are not always what they appear, for Luke has a few secrets to hide. And as a sweet, sensual passion begins to grow between them, Luke and Charity discover that the only wish either of them longs to fulfill is to spend a sweet eternity in each other's arms no matter the cost. The daughter of a town marshal, Linda Lael Miller is a #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred historical and contemporary novels, most of which reflect her love of the West. Raised in Northport, Washington, Linda pursued her wanderlust, living in London and Arizona and traveling the world before returning to the state of her birth to settle down on a horse property outside Spokane. Published since 1983, Linda was awarded the prestigious Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award in 2007 by the Romance Writers of America. She was recently inducted into the Wild West Heritage Foundation's Walk of Fame for her dedication to preserving the heritage of the Wild West. When not writing, Linda loves to focus her creativity on a wide variety of art projects. Visit her online at LindaLaelMiller.com and Facebook.com/OfficialLindaLaelMiller. Chapter 1 August 1889... Charity Barnham lay facedown and spread-eagle in the tree house, staring through a crack in the floor. Only a minute or so before, she'd been alone with her misery, but the whinny of a horse and a disturbance in the thick brush of the hillside had put an end to that. The rider reined in directly beneath her, swung down from the saddle and spoke soothingly to his black and white pinto gelding. When the intruder swept off his hat and set it carelessly in a crook of the tree -- one of the footholds Charity had used to climb to her leafy sanctuary -- she saw that his hair was fair, the color of late-summer honey, and long enough to brush the collar of his black canvas coat. Her heart skimmed over a few beats. She knew every man who worked on the Double B, her father's ranch, and most of the population of Jubilee as well. This man didn't fall into either category, which meant he was a drifter at best, and an outlaw at worst. Either way, she didn't relish the prospect of an encounter. She hoped he hadn't noticed Taffeta, her black mare, grazing in the little meadow at the top of the hill. The stranger whistled softly through his teeth as he began unsaddling his horse. His motions were easy and deliberate; it was almost as if he knew she was there, as if he were teasing her by taking his time. He tossed the saddle aside, slipped the bridle off over the gelding's head, and watched for a moment or two as the animal made its way down the bank to drink thirstily from the creek. Then, to her profound perturbation, the man proceeded to set up camp. Just far enough from the tree for safety, he made a circle of stones, then got busy gathering dry sticks and branches for firewood. From his saddlebags, he took what looked like a length of fishing line. She tensed, ready to flee the minute he disappeared around the bend in the creek. He didn't look like a greenhorn; surely he knew that the gelding would have scared off any trout that might b