When Godric Honeybun decides to portray a Native American in a war reenactment weekend, he doesn’t expect to run into his own, personal Indian princess on the battle field. Much to his amazement, when someone tries to kill her, he quickly discovers his inner warrior as he fights to keep her safe.
Chandini Moonglow likes reenactment weekends because they allow her to get in touch with her Native American roots. A brilliant chemist and holistic healer, Dini can’t imagine who might want her dead.
But she does know that the tall, sexy man with curly, auburn hair and an impossibly deep voice might be all that stands between her and certain death. And, for a variety of reasons, she’s really glad he’s there!
A warrior strode down the hill toward them. He was tall, with long muscles that flexed as he glided down the hill, his softly shod feet easily picking a path through the rocks and benches made of half logs that were set into the side of the hill. He moved with the grace of a wild feline, his broad shoulders swinging as he moved, the muscles in his arms bunching as he opened and closed his fists.
His dark hair was swept back, away from a strong face with a square jaw that was covered in dark bristle. Owl feathers formed a perfect arc at the back of his head.
Though he was very lean, his chest was broad and smooth, the pecs impressive beneath the warlike red of his body paint.
Buckskin leathers, decorated with small, multicolored beads over the shins, drooped perfectly just above his knees. The expanse of lean, muscular thigh above the leggings made Dini’s knees go weak. Her gaze drifted slowly upward, to the place where his loin cloth ended the delectable view and she almost cried out from the injustice of being denied.
But then he turned slightly sideways, lifting a softly shod foot to the last bench on the side of the hill, and she caught a glimpse of muscular, perfectly formed male buttock.
Dini stopped breathing.
She forgot, just for a moment, that she was at a reenactment of the battle of Koh koh mah, and was carried back in time. Suddenly, she was an Indian Princess, watching a powerful Indian warrior enter her sphere of existence.
He moved with tightly bound aggression. His muscles were taut with it. Antagonism painted every lean, masculine inch of his long form. His face was dark and forbidding under the red paint, his expression intense and focused.
He was warrior personified.
And she wanted him with every fiber of her being.