"...A great love story. Two completely different people with opposite backgrounds fall in love but is their love strong enough to overcome the differences between their cultures? Jane Toombs has written a page-turner, about the love between a white man and an Indian medicine woman. A story that teaches us a lot about the Indian culture. But above all, a story that was a pleasure to read."--Euro-Reviews

...“And so my sister, starved and ill, crept into the village with her child,” she finished, looking at him, “betrayed by the man she loved, the man she married. A white man. The men of our people don’t treat their women like dogs, to be given away or cast off.”

“So you’re judging me by this William Kelly, is that it?” Resentment edged his words.

“William Kelly is but one of many white men who’ve married women of the People and then abandoned them. Even the terrible Sioux, our bitter enemies, treat captured brides in a more honorable way.”

Kegan rubbed his hand over his face. “There’s a misunderstanding here. I merely wished to make love to you, not get married.”

She tensed in annoyance. Did he think she didn’t know the difference? “I’d never marry you! And I regret being tempted to share your blanket.”

“But if I were a man of your people, you would have, is that it?”

“I’ve met no man whose blanket I’d share!”

He studied her for many heartbeats, finally nodding his belief. She relaxed a little.

“My spirit animal came to remind me of what I am,” she told him. “A medicine woman. I should never have forgotten.” She smiled shyly. “You have your own power.”

His smile was wry. “Not enough power, it seems, to convince you that you belong in my arms.”

He did have the power, though she wouldn’t tell him so. Fortunately they’d leave here at dawn. If they had to remain together on this island for many suns, she feared she’d willingly and eagerly give herself to him despite her knowledge that she must not.

As if echoing her thoughts, he said, “Since we managed to patch the canoe, we won’t be here too much longer.”

“We still have one sleep before us,” she reminded him.

“You expect me to lie next to you and sleep?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s best we choose opposite sides of the fire.”

He sighed. “I won’t argue.”

Snow Flower slept poorly. Before dawn she jerked awake to find Kegan looming over her. Leaping to her feet, she stared at him in alarm.

“I’ve just fed the fire,” he said, raising his hands palms up to show her he meant no harm.

But he was on her side of the fire. Why?

“I couldn’t resist coming around to watch you as you slept,” he went on. “You’re a beautiful woman, Snow Flower. Lovely of face and of form. Made for a man to love.”

The moon was down, she could judge his intentions only by what she could see in the feeble flicker of the flames. The firelight changed him, casting evil shadows over his features. He reached toward her and she resisted her impulse to cringe away.

“Kegan,” she whispered. “Go back to your side of the fire.”

“I need to touch you. Just touch you.”

If he touched her, he’d kiss her. If he kissed her, he’d wrap his arms around her. Remembering the feel of his hard body against her softness started a fire in her loins. Danger lay in herself as well as within him.

Before she collected herself enough to speak, she felt his hand on her cheek, then his fingers caressing her lips. Without intending to, she opened her mouth and her tongue tasted him.

His groan told her how much he wanted her. Her breath caught as he suddenly gathered her to him, his mouth covering hers in a wild, stormy kiss. She could almost feel thunder crash around her as lightning sizzled through her.