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345 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1997
Bryony Wentworth, once a wealthy, privileged English landowner, is convicted of murdering her husband. After being transported to a penal colony in New South Wales while pregnant, Bryony gives birth to her child, then loses it to fever. Captain Hayden St. John collects her from the prison so that she can become a wet nurse for his son. Grief stricken over the loss of his wife, Hayden is bitter and untrusting. Bryony, fearful and angry at her fate, finds much to resent in Hayden, but his child offers her a new will to live. Although Hayden and Bryony fight their attraction, their union is so deeply passionate that it seems nothing can threaten their happiness until Bryony's past comes to haunt her.


"When I tell you to do something, you do it."

She wasn't going to be an easy woman to master,
but master her he was determined to do.

The baby might fill her arms, but he could never fill her heart.

The land seemed so lonely, so empty.
It frightened and excited her at the same time



She saw that the dark hair that matted his chest was wet with sweat. It curled around his nipples, plunged like an arrow toward his groin ...

How could she be so greedy as to want his love, too?WOW, I could not put this one down; heart-wrenching and utterly engrossing!
If a woman wasn't a virgin or a wife, then she was a whore.Freaking harrowing, you guys, HARROWING.
"When they made me a convict, they took away from me everything they could. My freedom. My children. My home. But things like my pride and my principles, they're in here." She curled her hand into a fist and pressed it tight against her breast. "No one can take those away.". . . and Hayden . . .
He had said nothing of love because he had none to give her.. . . start their journey from a place of true loathing in the wilds of Australia.

He dipped his head until his mouth brushed hers, his lips open, trembling. Then he rested his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut. "How can you not know what I want?" his voice was hoarse, strained. He speared his fingers through her hair, rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks. "How can you not know?"
"My uncle hated my name, just as he hated my mother. When she and my father died and I had to go live with him, he said I was like a wild filly that needed to be broken. He did his best to break me."["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
Hayden walked up behind her, resisting with difficulty the urge to pull her into his arms and soothe away the pain he sensed within her. "He didn't succeed," he said softly.
She turned around."No." An evening breeze caught a strand of her flame-tinged, dusky hair and fluttered it across her pale face. "It took marriage and prison to do that."
He reached out and tucked the loose strand behind her ear. "No," he said, trailing the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Your name still fits."