London belle Valentine Prescott rebelled at the idea of spending a year in America with a horde of savages, but she'd promised her mother, Sky Eyes, that she'd live a year with her people, the Blackfoot Indians. Still, she bristled with outrage when a towering Blackfoot warrior guide made her ride all the way to the Indian camp on a horse with no saddle. And how dare he call her "Heart's Flame"? But after a moonlight dip in a mountain stream, she stepped out onto a carpet of leaves softer than any London featherbed - and into the arms of her Indian escort. As Night Rider's lips crushed hers, the spirited miss saw her Blackfoot heritage in a new light, for her heart flamed at his touch and her blood flowed with rapture.
Night Rider was well-versed in the legends of his people. He knew all along that the fancy, nose-in-the-air miss was destined to be a Blackfoot princess, and he knew that a great passion burned within her heart. But he was wise enough to know that, like any young thoroughbred, she'd have to be tamed and gentled before she could be ridden. Night Rider proceeded slowly, even averting his eyes as he handed her the soap for her bath in the moonlit stream. But when he beheld her creamy skin sparkling with diamond droplets, he knew that he could no longer wait to press his yearning body close to hers and claim her trembling loveliness in destiny's embrace...
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