Elizabeth remembered.
The humiliation.
The laughter.
The borrowed coat.
The way her father smiled while the town watched.
And the quiet young servant who had kissed her hand instead of claiming a bride who'd been given no meaningful choice.
Daniel looked back at her.
โYou were the first person in my life who made me want something more than justice.โ
Elizabeth's tears spilled.
Then she whispered, โAnd you were the first man who ever made me feel that love didn't have to be another kind of prison.โ
He drew in a sharp breath.
For one suspended moment, they stood so close that Elizabeth could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her palm.
Then the distant sound of approaching horses broke the silence.
Daniel's expression changed.
He turned toward the trail leading up to the cabin.
Four riders were approaching from the west.
At their head rode Victor Caldwell, the wealthy rancher's son Elizabeth had refused to marry.
The man whose arrogance had started everything.
And tied to his saddle was a rolled legal notice bearing the seal of Judge Edward Hawthorne.
Daniel slowly released Elizabeth's hand.
His face hardened.
Elizabeth looked toward the approaching riders.
โWhat does he want?โ
Daniel's voice became quiet.
โWhatever your father has just discovered, he knows I'm no longer only the servant he married you to.โ
Elizabeth stared.
Then Daniel reached for the old deed.
โAnd I think he's come to make sure I never prove who I really am.โ
Eight weeks earlier, before that sunset changed everything, Elizabeth Hawthorne had been living in a mansion where every beautiful room felt like another locked door.
The Hawthorne estate stood above Silver Creek, Montana, its enormous white-painted residence surrounded by rolling meadows, ornamental gardens, carefully maintained stables, and thousands of acres of grazing land.
Inside, imported carpets covered polished wooden floors.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated the drawing room.
Expensive portraits hung above marble fireplaces.