Onlookers helped the two female passengers—a well-dressed woman and a young lady—alight from the carriage. Bonnets askew, shaken and sobbing, they appeared barely able to stand. Their rescuer, after sliding to the ground with easy grace, had gone to the horses’ heads and was speaking in a low crooning voice to soothe the animals’ fright.

Arrested by the husky sound, Heather froze where she stood, her gaze transfixed by the tall, rugged stranger. There was something compelling about him, an aura of toughness and strength that stemmed from more than simply his height or lean, muscular build. His overlong hair was the color of dusty wheat and brushed the collar of his buckskin coat. She found herself staring at an unruly strand that curled around his hard, stubble-shadowed jaw—

The carriage’s Negro driver came running down the street just then, apologizing profusely to his mistress for letting the horses bolt, even as he took a firm hold of the reins.

Relinquishing responsibility, the stranger ran a hand through his waving hair and glanced back up the street, as if he’d just realized his hat was missing. He started to turn, as if to fetch it, but the elder lady would not permit him to leave.

“Oh, sir … I cannot thank you enough… My daughter and I were terrified!”

“It was nothing, ma’am,” he replied, his voice low and edged with a natural, rough huskiness.

“Nothing! Why, I declare, you saved our very lives!”

“So brave,” the pretty daughter murmured.

Heather concurred wholeheartedly. His heroic action had taken extraordinary courage. She knew of few men who would willingly step into the path of an onrushing vehicle, and fewer still who could manage to intercede so skillfully. He had very likely prevented a tragedy—and saved her from possible injury as well.

He looked reluctant to accept their praise, though, and murmured a brief pardon, obviously intending to take his leave. But the girl reached out a trembling hand and swayed toward him as if she might fall.

He had no option but to catch her. His hands came up to clasp her upper arms, supporting her unwillingly.

Heather could see why the girl might swoon. Lean and sinewed, the stranger possessed a powerful ruggedness that was unusual in the gentlemen of St. Louis. His hard, chiseled features were remarkably handsome, his sensual mouth clean-cut and bracketed by twin grooves, his complexion tanned a deep bronze by the elements. His unruly, sun-streaked hair looked as if he hadn’t visited a barber in a great while, yet it was his eyes that were most striking. Even from a distance, she could see they were a light, startling shade of sky-blue.

Then, as if he sensed her watching, his gaze lifted slowly, meeting hers across the street. Heather found herself riveted by his stare. The cool intensity of his gaze unnerved her and made her pulse beat faster.