Queenie Carlisle meets Hector Jagger at the iron gate with her chin lifted and her voice sharp, yet the broad line of his shoulders and the quiet weight of his stare make her narrow waist tremble in ways she refuses to acknowledge. His hand covers hers on the latch for a heartbeat too long, stirring the craving she has buried beneath her fight for the land.
The slender birch waits in the tool shed, ready to mark the skin just beneath her collar if she yields to the discipline he offers. Every rule of her world warns against surrendering her autonomy to any man, but the promise of his control pulls her toward the moment when her body will answer before her pride can speak.
Will she accept the birching that steadies her without losing the independence she has fought to keep?
