Sam Andrews has the culprit in sight! His horses and cattle have been stolen from his ranch in west Texas and now his wait for revenge is over. The thief is beautiful, Apache, and naked as she bathes in the clear blue stream. Sam takes her prisoner but revenge is about to become an entanglement of the heart . . .

Morning Star was raised by the Apache Indians and to keep her band alive and fed, she was forced to steal anything she could get her hands on. Yet the only thing that has eluded her, that has nothing to do with her people, is Sam's heart. When he takes her back to his ranch to force her to repay the staggering debt she owes him, she protests she won't do so on her back. Yet she knows the strong cowboy has other ideas . . .

Excerpt

He?d found her at last. And now he had her right where he wanted her. In a stream. Naked.

Sam Andrews crept along on his stomach, his elbows crossed under his powerfully built shoulders. Bright clouds scuttled across the sun?s path. He edged slowly towards the ribbon of cold, sunlit, blue water. Inch by inch, he slid along as silent as an Apache warrior, taking cover by a solitary clump of sagebrush that was surrounded by hot sand. If he weren?t akin to the quietude of death, he?d scare the woman who had stolen his horses.

Red-hot anger stirred in his chest. As a Confederate soldier, Sam had become accustomed to waiting patiently for exactly the right moment. He?d been known as ?Silent Thunder? to his comrades. Stealth came in handy when hunting thieves.

He had a clear view of her now as she bathed in the rushing stream. Her buckskin dress lay on a sun-heated rock nearby, but he suspected modesty wasn?t part of her vocabulary. If she needed to fight hand to hand, she?d do it. With or without clothes.

The water gurgled over smooth rocks and pebbles drowning out the sound of his creeping, for which he was grateful. Sam doubted that he?d have been able to get quite so close to the woman without the water masking his approach. And he knew from previous experience that she was more skittish than an untamed horse.

Daring to take a peek, he lifted his head a scant few inches and watched. She was downright beautiful, although he hadn?t made up his mind whether she was Apache or white. With her raven black hair and dark eyes, she could have been either. Yet her unlined skin was paler than was the norm for the Indians in these parts. She smoothed her palms over the back of her wet, glossy hair and rested them on her neck, lifting her face to the relentlessly hot sun.

Sam imagined crystal clear drops of water glistening on long, dark eyelashes, and his knuckles caressing her tanned cheeks. From this angle, slightly above the river, he saw her up-tilted breasts jutting out above the water?s surface. Relieved he hadn?t shot her the last time he?d seen her, he wet his lips. It was going to be mighty difficult crawling along the ground with a rock heavy hard-on. And he was a big man in every sense of the word.

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