Charity would never forget the sight till the end of her days. She’d pulled back the living room curtains and turned on the porch light before setting herself to reassuring Uncle Franklin.

He was aging so fast. His skin hung from his jaws with the weight he’d lost in the week since she’d last seen him and he was paper white. The bone structure beneath was easily visible. Any more weight loss and his head would resemble a skull. He ran a bony hand over his face and she could hear the rasp of his white beard stubble. “What’s taking him so long?”

Charity took his hand and winced at the tremor. “It’s only been about ten minutes since he’s gone out, Uncle Franklin, even though it feels like more,” she said gently. “Don’t worry. Nick will find her.”

At one level, the words were empty reassurance, but Charity was astounded to find that she meant it. How was that? How on earth could she be sure Nick knew what he was doing? She couldn’t. And yet every instinct she had told her that she could trust him to find her aunt.

He was a businessman who led a soft life, making money in the city. There was nothing about him that suggested he’d grown up on a farm or hunted in some way. Most hunters, in her experience, tended toward the tedious about their guns. Nick had never once mentioned hunting or safaris or anything of the sort. What could an investment broker possibly know about tracking someone in the snow?

And yet, when he’d told her to stay put, she’d instinctively obeyed, instantly, though it went against common sense. She knew her aunt and the area around the big house, and he didn’t. If she didn’t have a bone-deep sense that if anyone could find Aunt Vera, it was him, she would never have stayed behind.

It had been an instant, a flash of something like steel. She’d met his serious, beautiful eyes, sensed the power he was keeping leashed while trying to convince her to stay put. And the moment she’d let him go out alone it was as if something had lit up inside him, as if she’d freed him somehow. Like a wild animal let out of a cage to do what it did best—hunt.

It was crazy, but it was true. There had been a blast of—something. Something almost frightening. Something potent. Primordial and utterly male. As if Nick had been infused with an otherworldly power and was only now letting it show.

She shook her head. Wow. Massive amounts of sex and lack of sleep were driving her crazy.

Still, she did what he said. A big pot of water was on the stove, almost at boiling point. Two mugs of tea with three teaspoons of sugar apiece were in the microwave, waiting to be nuked. A pile of blankets, a clean nightgown, and several towels were on a kitchen chair.

“Sit down, Uncle Franklin,” Charity said gently. She guided her uncle to a chair, putting her hands lightly on his shoulders. He sat abruptly, as if she’d pushed. Or as if his legs wouldn’t carry him any more.

Head bowed, he covered his eyes with his hand, weary and despairing. His voice was a whisper. “Look out the window, honey, and tell me if you see anything.”

More to humor him than anything else, Charity walked to the kitchen window. All the outside lights were on, including the spotlight under the huge oak in the back garden. The snowstorm had left almost a foot of snow on the lawn. It had spent itself in the last hour and was now slowly abating. A few minutes ago she could barely see the oak she’d spent her childhood climbing. Now the stark, bare, black branches stood out in the field of white.

“Well? Can you see something?”

Charity turned to her uncle, pained at the dejection in his voice. Be cheery, she told herself. The last thing he needed was to hear her own desperation.

“No,” she said, injecting false confidence in her voice. “But I’m sure—”

She broke off, peering out the window. Could it be—oh God, yes!

The lawn sloped sharply down on this side of the house, so she saw his head first as he approached.

It was a sight she’d never forget, till the end of her days.

A coatless Nick, walking up the slope, with Aunt Vera wrapped up in his coat and clasped in his arms. The snow and dim light blurred perspective, so it looked like he was rising up from the bowels of the earth instead of walking up toward her. The snow was halfway up his shins but he moved forward easily—a warrior coming home from battle, carrying a wounded comrade in his arms.

Wounded, please God. Not dead.

Nick shifted Aunt Vera in his arms and Charity clearly saw her aunt tighten her arms around his neck.

She was alive!

Charity’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh and her legs trembled. She shot out a hand and gripped the counter, otherwise she’d have simply tumbled to the floor. For the first time, she admitted to herself how terrified she’d been that they would find a corpse in the snow. Her eyes burned and she blinked to keep the tears at bay.

“There they are—” The words came out a dry croak, inaudible. She cleared her throat and coughed to try to ease the tightness and speak, but then it wasn’t necessary. A sharp intake of breath behind her told her Uncle Franklin could see them outside the kitchen window.

Charity lost the battle with her tears and could feel the wet cold on her cheeks as she threw open the door, just as Nick reached the steps up to the porch.

In a second they were inside and Nick was barking orders.

“Get those wet things off her and wrap her in as many blankets as you can. Charity, bring that pan of water over to the table with a big towel.”

Charity and Uncle Franklin scrambled to strip her aunt. Somehow, Nick was there, helping, while making sure he couldn’t see Aunt Vera’s naked body.

It was at that moment that Charity fell in love with him. As charmed as she’d been by him up to now, she’d managed to keep a little something of herself apart.

It was so over the top, having an outrageously handsome, incredibly rich man sweep her off her feet, and ply her with out-of-this-world sex. Deep in her heart, Charity knew that Nick was too good to be true.

What could she possibly hope for? He was passing through Parker’s Ridge on business, his mind probably already on the next thing. Charity would be insane to think that their time together was anything more than a brief affair.

She’d had quite enough pain for one lifetime, thank you. Losing her parents at the age of twelve. Almost a year in the hospital with a broken body and all of her teens spent doing rehabilitative physical therapy so she could walk again. Oh yeah, she’d had quite enough pain. She hadn’t suffered in love, because she hadn’t given herself in any significant way.

Sex hadn’t meant all that much up until now. Pleasant, comforting at times, a little boring at times. She’d always gotten out of bed the same person who’d tumbled in.

Sex with Nick was an order of magnitude stronger than anything she’d ever had. Mind blowing, frighteningly intense. She’d had to work to keep herself together, to keep the whole thing as casual as possible. Physically exciting, yes, but that was it.

And now, watching her lover walk into the kitchen with Aunt Vera in his arms, helping to disrobe her gently and discreetly, Charity felt a huge hole open up inside and all the little defenses she’d put up simply crack wide open.

Inside a couple of minutes, her aunt was cocooned in a thick bundle of blankets, drinking hot tea while Nick held a finger to the pulse of her other hand.

He met Charity’s eyes. “Pulse is almost normal. Temperature is a little low, though. We need to raise her core temperature.”

“How?” What more could they possibly do?

Nick put the big pot of boiling water on the table and took a towel in his hand. Gently, he positioned Aunt Vera so that she was breathing in the steam, then put the towel over her head like a cowl, directing the steam toward her. “Breathe deeply, ma’am.”