When a mercenary takes a captured nobleman home as a slave, he finds love blossoming; only to learn he must trade it for his indentured sister's freedom.ExcerptThe only reason Brendan had left home was because he needed the kind of money only killing and looting could bring. The road heading East was empty. There were no carts banging against the sandy gravel. No homes with children playing or women cooking; the air wasn’t filled with spice, just sparse patches of grass and rock. It was the first time, in a long time, Brendan had been alone. He relished the quiet.Then his slave decided to speak. “Your hair. It’s long.”“Yes. It is.” Easterners didn’t cut their hair, short hair was the style of the South.“It makes you look like a woman,” the boy said decidedly.Brendan stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. He turned to the boy who stood tall, his eyes daring Brendan to disagree. Brendan’s broad shoulders shook, his muscles rippled under his bronze skin as he roared with laughter. “A woman, huh?”The boy nodded. “Just a little. From the back.”