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She was incapable of deception. Completely innocent. She was everything he’d ever hoped to find in a woman—yet had never believed he would. She was unexpected sunshine and warmth on a winter day. Laughter and excitement. Love when he least expected it and was least prepared to deal with it. “You said I disappointed you.”
    â€œThat was before. Now I know who you really are.”
    â€œOh, Cindy.” He couldn’t stop himself. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. She tasted exquisite, and her lips promised him paradise. “Cindy,” he whispered against her mouth. Never had a name been lovelier. He kissed her again.
    Cindy leaned into him, afraid she’d wake up any minute and discover this had all been a dream.
    Thorne heaved a sigh that came from deep inside him and held her so close his arms ached.
    â€œThorne…”
    â€œI’m hurting you?” He relaxed the pressure instantly and ran his hands down her back and up again to rest on the curve of her shoulders. His thumb stroked the pulse that was rapidly pounding near the hollow of her throat. Reluctantly he eased her away from him. “Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything.”
    Cindy dropped her gaze and laughed lightly to hide her uneasiness. She couldn’t tell him anything. “There isn’t much….”
    She rested her hands on the sides of his face and slowlystroked his jaw. “I see so much pride in you. Stubborn pride,” she said. “And determination. Were you always like this?”
    Thorne smiled in response. “Always, I think. My mother claims that when I was fourteen months old, I threw my bottle against the wall and refused to drink out of anything but a cup from then on. When other children were riding tricycles, I wanted a two-wheeler. I was reading by age five and not because I was gifted. My older sisters read, and I was hell-bent to do anything they could.”
    â€œWhereas I refused to give up my blankie until I was six,” Cindy admitted sheepishly. It had been her only comfort after her mother had died, and she’d clung to it feverishly, initially refusing to accept the love her aunt and uncle had offered.
    â€œYou must have been a beautiful little girl.”
    â€œI had buckteeth and freckles.”
    â€œI wore braces and corrective shoes.”
    Cindy laughed. “You were always athletic, though, weren’t you?”
    Thorne’s eyes clouded momentarily. “Yes.”
    â€œSomething happened.” Cindy could see it—a flash of memory that came so briefly another person might have missed it.
    His heart hammered relentlessly. He hadn’t thought about the accident in years. He’d only been a child. Ten years old.
    Cindy saw the pain in his eyes and although she didn’t understand it, she knew she had to comfort him. She lifted her hand and touched his face. “Tell me,” she whispered in a low, coaxing tone. “Tell me what happened.”
    Sensation raced through Thorne. He caught her hand,raised it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I fell off my horse. I thought I was dead, then I realized that death couldn’t hurt that much. I was barely conscious. Every breath I took was like inhaling fire.”
    Cindy bit her lip. The thought of Thorne in pain, even pain he’d suffered years before, was intolerable. “Broken ribs?”
    â€œSix, and a bruised kidney.”
    Her fingers tightened over his. He was remembering more than the physical pain—something far deeper, far more intense. “What else happened?”
    He gave her a long, hard look. “I already told you. I fell off the horse.”
    â€œNo. Afterward.”
    â€œAfterward,” he repeated. He remembered lying in bed in his darkened room hours later. The pain hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had grown so much worse he wished he had died just