“This is…” Isobel’s voice drifted like a breath caught on the morning breeze. “Enchanting. Who lives here?”

Ryder’s mouth tipped into a small, easy smile, the kind that softened his jaw but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “My mama’s place,” he said, low and warm, as if the words themselves could calm the restless energy rolling off her. The gelding’s gait slowed under his subtle hand, bringing them up toward the green-roofed cabin where dew still clung to the lawn like ...