I have driven men and cattle through worse than this, but Helena Brennan's quiet defiance pulls at the control I keep like a second skin. She says the partnership is temporary, that the ranch depends on keeping distance, yet her chin drops the moment my voice lowers.
At the ford her hand trembles under mine on the rope. “Do not move,” I tell her, and the air between us thickens with everything the herd cannot see. The supply tent is three steps away. Inside it her skirts will rise and her skin will mark under my palm the way her eyes already promise she needs.
Three days left before the auction takes what is left of my name. I will not let her go without learning how far that promise reaches.
