BJ JAMES’

      first book for Silhouette Desire was published in February 1987. Her second Desire novel garnered for BJ a second Maggie, the coveted award of the Georgia Romance Writers. Through the years there have been other awards and nominations for awards, including, from Romantic Times Magazine, Reviewer’s Choice, Career Achievement, Best Desire and Best Series Romance of the Year. In that time, her books have appeared regularly on a number of bestseller lists, among them Waldenbooks and USA Today.

      On a personal note, BJ and her physician husband have three sons and two grandsons. While her address reads Mooreboro, this is only the origin of a mail route passing through the countryside. A small village set in the foothills of western North Carolina is her home.

      Contents

      Foreword

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Foreword

      In the coastal Lowcountry of South Carolina, where the fresh waters of winding rivers flow into the sea, there is an Eden of unmatched wonders. In this mix of waters and along the shores by which they carve their paths, life is rich and varied. The land is one of uncommon contrasts, with sandy, sea-swept beaches, mysterious swamps, teeming marshes bounded by ancient maritime forests. And a multitude of creatures abide in each.

      In this realm of palms and palmettos, estuaries and rivers, shaded by towering live oaks draped in ghostly Spanish moss, lies Belle Terre. Like an exquisite pearl set among emeralds and sapphires, with its name the small antebellum city describes its province. As it describes itself.

      Belle Terre, beautiful land. A beautiful city.

      A very proper, very elegant, beautiful city. A gift for the soul. An exquisite mélange for the senses. With ancient and grand structures in varying states of repair and disrepair set along tree-lined, cobbled streets. With narrow, gated gardens lush with such greenery as resurrection and cinnamon ferns. And all of it wrapped in the lingering scent of camellias, azaleas, jessamine and magnolias.

      Steeped in an aura of history, its culture and customs influenced by plantations that once abounded in the Lowcountry, as it clings to its past, Belle Terre is a province of contradictions. Within its society one will find arrogance abiding with humility, cruelty with kindness, insolence with gentility, honor with depravity, and hatred with love.

      As ever when the senses are whetted and emotions untamed, in Belle Terre there will be passion, romance, and scandal.

      Prologue

      The wilderness was his sanctuary. As a boy he’d come in search of solace. As a man he came for peace.

      From his vantage among the trees, Jefferson Cade looked over a swampy Eden. A land few knew as he knew it. The land of his heart. One of strange, erratic temperament, as now. For even as he waited, its mood altered. Dormant air grew sultry. Moisture permeated each breath and burnished all it touched in a heated mist. The day, and the hideaway tucked among the limbs of the moss strewn tree, were held in the thrall of a lowcountry summer.

      Far below the tree house, at the edge of a pond, a fish jumped, startling a fawn just dipping his head to drink. Jefferson smiled as the tiny creature danced away. A smile that vanished as he glimpsed the woman half hidden in the shadow of a palmetto.

      Caught by her stillness, he waited. As she watched the fawn, he saw how much she’d changed, yet remained the same. When she’d first come from Argentina to live, to study, and absorb the graces still surviving in the quaint city of Belle Terre, she’d been a girl on the verge of womanhood. Now the tomboy who hunted, fished, and handled horses as well as any man, had indeed become a beautiful woman. And his best friend.

      “Marissa.” She couldn’t have heard, yet her eyes lifted to his. And, as she came to him, he whispered, “Marissa Claire.”

      A half hour of silence later, Jefferson abandoned his pen and sketch pad. Moving to Marissa’s side he sat on the tree house floor, wondering what trouble had drawn her to him.

      This meeting had begun strangely. After a subdued greeting and a strained smile, she’d barely spoken. Conversation had never been necessary between them. Yet now her silence was unbearable.

      Leaning on an elbow, he stared down at a beguiling woman who lay as if she were sleeping. But he knew her body language too well not to read the wakeful tension. As patience deserted him, he tugged a stray curl. “Hey, lazybones, want to go fishing?”

      Reluctantly her dark gaze met his. Knowing the time for pretense was past, but not ready to speak, she looked away.

      Jefferson had never seen her so distant. It was rare that she would call him at midday asking that he meet her here. Rare that she barely greeted him then withdrew. Something was wrong. “What is it, Marissa? Why did you ask me to come here?”

      When her reply was only a shrug,