For weeks he’d refused to put a name to the hunger he felt for Heather, yet it had taken hold of him in a way that was beyond lust, beyond carnal craving. All he had to do was look at her and his pulse started beating faster. He just thought of her and a fire smoldered low in his belly, swelling his groin. And when they made love… He’d never before been so lost in a woman’s body. What he felt went deeper than physical desire … damn damn damn her.

As the blackness swirled around him, Sloan mumbled another oath, despising his weakness for her. Even as he tried to shut out Heather’s memory, he was assailed by an image of her heart-stopping face, her beautiful, soft golden eyes filled with pain and love.

He groaned at the terrible, unexpected yearning that swept over him. Shutting his eyes, he cursed his burning hunger for her. He didn’t want her love. He wouldn’t let her mold and touch his heart the way she had his body.

He couldn’t love again. He couldn’t bear the vulnerability. He couldn’t bear it….

The moon glowed down on the rugged foothills, casting a spell of silver shadows, yet Heather scarcely saw the enchantment. Her heart was aching.

She stood at the rail on the back porch, her head bowed, her throat tight with unshed tears as she remembered Sloan’s parting words. You can keep your love, duchess. I don’t want it. When a coyote crooned mournfully in the distance, she shivered, despite the warmth of the summer night.

Just then the kitchen door whispered open behind her. Her breath catching sharply, Heather turned to find Wolf Logan staring at her in the darkness with his intent gaze. Wiping her burning eyes, she closed the folds of her wrapper more tightly over her throat.

“You all right?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

Closing the door softly behind him, he came to stand beside her at the rail. Half-naked, he wore no shirt or boots, merely denim trousers. The corded sinews of his bare arms and torso rippled in the moonlight, brazenly masculine. Modestly Heather averted her gaze. Despite his striking handsomeness, he seemed more than a little savage with his long raven hair and bronzed skin and piercing eyes. Yet somehow she didn’t fear him. On the contrary, she felt inexplicably safe with him.

“Sloan often ride into town to play poker?” Wolf asked.

She preferred not to reply. It was mortifying to have her marital problems on display. “Not often,” she murmured.

“He never used to be much of a gambler. Has he changed that much since I last saw him?”

“I don’t suppose so.”