Francesca Irving has guarded her ranch and her body through years of isolation on the wind-scoured plains, her sharp tongue masking the deep craving for someone strong enough to steady her. When Duncan Forsyth, the neighboring rancher with thick corded arms and a steady gaze, proposes the alliance that could save her land, their business dealings draw them into closer quarters with every storm that rolls across the prairie.

The cellar door slams shut in the lantern light, his fingers pausing on her bodice buttons as her milk responds to his command. She fights to keep her independence even as her body yields to the milking that leaves white streams soaking his shirt, the addictive relief threatening to shatter her last defenses.

The scar above her breast aches under his touch, and she wonders how long she can hold out against the man who holds both her ranch and her surrender in his hands.