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Autumn, 1784: A tragic secret from Karin McNeal's past haunts the young Scots-Irish woman who longs to know more of her mother’s death and the mysterious father no one will name. The elusive voices she hears in the wind hint at the dramatic changes soon to unfold in her life among the Scot’s settled in the mist-shrouded Alleghenies. Jack McCray, a wounded stranger who staggers through the door on the eve of her twentieth birthday and anniversary of her mother’s death, holds the key to unlocking the past. Will she let this handsome frontiersman lead her to the truth and into his arms, or seek the shelter of her fiercely possessive grandfather? Is it only her imagination or does something, or someone, wait beyond the brooding ridges—for her?
PRINT ISBN 1-60154-489-8
(256 pages) Spicy
Excerpt
The strange awareness inside Karin grew, like a summons urging her to an untamed place.
Jack ran fading eyes over Karin. “Paca tamseh,” he said, and sagged more heavily against Grandpa.
“Indian words,” someone hissed. “I heard ‘em.”
Karin shrank back from the man, but Sarah grabbed her arm, pulling her forward with a steely grip. “Can you blame him for knowing their speech after all these years?” She jerked Karin onto her knees and they knelt by the newcomer. Loosening her grip, Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck. “My poor boy.”
Heart racing, Karin hugged the crock. She looked to her grandfather. “I never knew she had an older son.”
“Jack was eight when Shawnee captured him twenty years ago. Any son of Sarah's is welcome in my house and the settlement,” Grandpa said with a look, daring any to object.
None did. At least, not aloud, although Karin expected there'd be plenty of talk behind their hands.
“You told me Jack was dead, Mama,” Joseph said.
“I thought he was. Praise God he's back.”
“How did he know where to find you?” Uncle Thomas asked. “You weren't a McNeal when he was taken.”
Neeley clucked. “Never mind that now. We've a wounded man who's been welcomed home with lead shot.”
Jack fluttered his eyes and looked to Karin. His gaze drew her almost against her will. She leaned toward him. “Someone seeks you, Shequenor's dahnaithah.”
The message rippled through her. And she knew—his was the inviting summons in the wind.
