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Honor Bound

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In Honor Bound Sandra Brown paints a moving story of love and hate, passion and duty as she explores the deepest obligations of the heart ? to family, to heritage, to love.

Aislinn Andrews met Lucas Greywolf under unusual circumstances ? she caught the escaped convict raiding her refrigerator. But was he a troublemaker who aroused dissidence among Arizona's Native Americans . . . or a hero who'd gone to prison for a crime he hadn't committed? It didn't really matter now, since ...

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In Honor Bound Sandra Brown paints a moving story of love and hate, passion and duty as she explores the deepest obligations of the heart — to family, to heritage, to love.

Aislinn Andrews met Lucas Greywolf under unusual circumstances — she caught the escaped convict raiding her refrigerator. But was he a troublemaker who aroused dissidence among Arizona's Native Americans . . . or a hero who'd gone to prison for a crime he hadn't committed? It didn't really matter now, since Lucas Greywolf had taken her hostage. He was going home to the reservation of his birth, honor bound to pay last respects to his dying grandfather. And Aislinn was his ticket home.

Through their journey across the hot Arizona desert, Aislinn was alternately intrigued and infuriated by this rebel with a cause. This defiant, determined man made no secret of his hatred for her kind: the Anglos who betrayed his people.

Yet among his people, Aislinn saw another side to Lucas Greywolf as she was swept into a world where sacred tradition clashed with despair and poverty, where family, heritage, and honor was all that remained. Transformed by his world, by his strength, by her growing love for this complicated, proud man, she gave in to her heart's demands, knowing that Lucas would soon return to prison. Neither anticipated the gift he'd leave behind.

Honor Bound is a classic romance that explores the myriad emotions that drive men and women to find each other — to cross the boundaries of fear, uncertainty, even hate, to explore the uncharted territory of love.

Sandra Brown is a New York Times bestselling author who began her career creating marvelously entertaining stories filled with passion, humor and adventure. There are over fifty million copies of her books in print worldwide, and her work is published in over thirty languages. She and her husband live in Texas.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780786242054
  • Publisher: Gale Group
  • Publication date: 8/28/2002
  • Edition description: Large Print
  • Pages: 367
  • Product dimensions: 5.42 (w) x 8.86 (h) x 1.22 (d)

Meet the Author

Sandra Brown
Sandra Brown is the author of numerous New York Times bestsellers - including most recently Smash Cut, Smoke Screen, Play Dirty, Ricochet, Chill Factor, White Hot, Hello, Darkness, The Crush, and Envy. She is the recipient of the 2008 Thriller Master Award from International Thriller Writers, Inc. She and her husband live in Arlington, Texas.


In 1979, Sandra Brown lost her job at a television program and decided to give writing a try. She bought an armful of romance novels and writing books, set up a typewriter on a card table and wrote her first novel. Harlequin passed but Dell bit, and Brown was off and writing, publishing her works under an assortment of pseudonyms.

From such modest beginnings, Brown has evolved into multimillion publishing empire of one, the CEO of her own literary brand; she towers over the landscape of romantic fiction. Brown has used her growing clout to insist her publishers drop the bosom-and-biceps covers and has added more intricate subplots, suspense, and even unhappy endings to her work. The result: A near-constant presence on The New York Times bestsellers list. In 1992, she had three on the list at the same time, joining that exclusive club of Stephen King, Tom Clancy, J. K. Rowling, and Danielle Steel.

Her work in the mainstream realm has taken her readers into The White House, where the president's newborn dies mysteriously; the oil fields and bedrooms of a Dallas-like family dynasty; and the sexual complications surrounding an investigation into an evangelist's murder. Such inventions have made her a distinct presence in a crowded genre.

"Brown is perhaps best known now for her longer novels of romantic suspense. The basic outline for these stories has passionate love, lust, and violence playing out against a background of unraveling secrets and skeletons jumping out of family closets," wrote Barbara E. Kemp in the book Twentieth-Century Romance & Historical Writers . Kemp also praises Brown's sharp dialogue and richly detailed characters. "However, her greatest key to success is probably that she invites her readers into a fantasy world of passion, intrigue, and danger," she wrote. "They too can face the moral and emotional dilemmas of the heroine, safe in the knowledge that justice and love will prevail."

Critics give her points for nimble storytelling but are cooler to her "serviceable prose," in the words of one Publishers Weekly reviewer. Still, when writing a crack page-turner, the plot's the thing. A 1992 New York Times review placed Brown among a group of a writers "who have mastered the art of the slow tease."

Staggeringly prolific, Brown found her writing pace ground to a halt when she was given a different assignment. A magazine had asked her for an autobiographical piece, and it took her months to complete. Her life in the suburbs, though personally fulfilling, was nonetheless blander than fiction. That may be why she dives into her fiction writing with such workhorse gusto. "I love being the bad guy," she told Publishers Weekly in 1995, "simply because I was always so responsible, so predictable growing up. I made straight A's and never got into any trouble, and I still impose those standards on myself. So writing is my chance to escape and become the sleaziest, scummiest role."

When she started writing, her goal was always to break out of the parameters of romance. After about 45 romances, the woman who counts Tennessee Williams and Taylor Caldwell among her influences told The New York Times that felt she had reached a plateau. In fact, she doesn't even look at her books as romances anymore. "I think of my books now as suspense novels, usually with a love story incorporated," she said. "They're absolutely a lot harder to write than romances. They take more plotting and real character development. Each book is a stretch for me, and I try something interesting each time that males will like as well as women."

Good To Know

  • "I hate to exercise and only do so because I absolutely must."

  • "I love to eat and my favorite foods are all bad for the body. Fried chicken and gravy, TexMex, red meat (hey, I'm from Texas!). My only saving grace is that I'm not that fond of sweets. Salty is my thing. Chocolate cake and ice cream I can skip. But a bag of Fritos. . ."

  • "It takes me a long time to go to sleep, usually because I read in bed and hate to put down the book. But when I do nod off, I'm a champion sleeper. I can easily do eight or nine hours a night."

  • "My worst "thing" is mean-spirited people. People who deliberately belittle or embarrass someone really irk me. The people I admire most are the ones who find something good about even the most undesirable individual. That was a quality my mother had, the one I hope most to emulate."

  • "I have a fear of gravity. Recently my whole family went to Belize. We had several adventures. We tubed a river through miles of cave, wearing head lamps so we'd have illumination. No problem. I scaled Mayan ruins. I rode horseback (on a monster named Al Capone) through the rain forest. No problem. But I couldn't zip line. Even though my five-year-old grandsons did it with glee, I just couldn't make that leap."

  • "I and my husband are huge fans of Jeopardy! We never miss it if we can help it. Does that make us complete dorks?"

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      1. Also Known As:
        Laura Jordan, Rachel Ryan and Erin St. Claire
      2. Hometown:
        Arlington, TX
      1. Date of Birth:
        March 12, 1948
      2. Place of Birth:
        Waco, Texas
      1. Education:
        Honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters, Texas Christian University, 2008
      2. Website:

    Read an Excerpt

    Chapter One

    The refrigerator door was open, projecting a pale, blue-white wedge of light into the dark kitchen. A carton of milk was standing on the countertop. Beside it was a loaf of bread, gaping open, two slices lying half in, half out.

    But even without those peculiarities, she instinctively knew the moment she came through her back door that something was amiss. She sensed another presence, dangerous and motionless, waiting.

    Automatically she reached for the light switch. Before her hand made contact, it was manacled by iron-hard fingers, twisted behind her and painfully shoved up between her shoulder blades. She opened her mouth to scream, but another hand, callused and tasting slightly of salt, clamped over her mouth, so that her scream came out only as a frantic, guttural sound, that of an animal entrapped.

    She had always wondered how she would react in such a situation. If assaulted, would she faint? If her life were imperiled by an attacker, would she plead to be spared?

    It came as a mild surprise, now, that besides being frightened she was angry. She began to struggle, trying to twist her head away from the unyielding hand over her mouth. She wanted to see her assailant's face. Get a description. Wasn't that what the rape-prevention centers advised? Look at his face.

    Easier said than done, she realized. Struggling proved to be futile because of her attacker's strength. He was tall. That much she knew. She could feel his breath, ragged and hot, against the crown of her head. Occasionally her head bumped into his chin. So he must be well over six feet tall, she reasoned, and filed that bit of information away.

    Thebody she was being held against was hard, but she wouldn't use "bulky" or "muscle-bound" in her description to the police. Indeed, it seemed to her that he was whipcord lean. From the corner of her eye, his biceps looked as firm and round as a green apple.

    Her struggles were only succeeding in wearing her out. Rationalizing that she should conserve her energy and strength, she suddenly ceased her efforts to escape his inescapable hold and became still. Her breasts rose and fell with every insufficient breath she tried to draw through her nostrils. Gradually the arms restraining her relaxed, but only a trifle.

    "My name is Lucas Greywolf." A raspy voice, as soft and sandy as the wind that blew across the desert, spoke directly into her ear. It was a gentle sound, but Aislinn wasn't deceived. Like the winds it reminded her of, she thought, it could be whipped into a fury with the slightest provocation.

    And considering the source of that whispery voice, such a whimsical shift was probable. Frightfully so.

    The name Lucas Greywolf had been repeated over television signals and radio frequencies throughout the day. Last night the Indian activist had escaped from the federal prison camp in Florence, about 50 miles away. Law-enforcement agencies were combing the state in search of the escaped convict.

    And he was in her kitchen! "I need food. Rest. I won't hurt you if you cooperate," he growled close to her ear. "If you even try to scream I'll be forced to gag you. Do we have a bargain?"

    She nodded once in agreement and the hand came away from her mouth cautiously. As soon as it was removed, she gasped for air. "How did you get here?"

    "On foot, mostly," he replied, without elaboration or apparent concern. "You know who I am?"

    "Yes. They're looking all over for you."

    "I know." Her initial anger had dissipated. She wasn't a coward, but she wasn't a fool either. Heroics had their place, but now wasn't the time to start playing Wonder Woman. This intruder was no petty thief. Lucas Greywolf should be considered dangerous. All the news reports said so.

    What was she to do? Overpowering him was unthinkable. He'd have no difficulty subduing her, and in the process she would probably get hurt. No, the only way she could possibly hope to outmaneuver him was by using her wits, while waiting for an opportunity to escape.

    "Sit down." He nudged her shoulder roughly. Without argument, she went to the table in the center of the kitchen, laid her purse on it and pulled out a chair. She lowered herself into the seat carefully.

    He moved as silently as smoke and as nimbly as a shadow. She hadn't heard him cross the floor, and only knew that he had when his shadow stretched across the tabletop. Timorously lifting her eyes, she saw his silhouette looming in the eerie light of the open refrigerator door. Like a panther, he looked dark and lean and lethal when he crouched down and took a summer sausage from the meat drawer.

    Apparently believing that she had capitulated, he negligently closed the refrigerator door. The kitchen went dark. She lunged from her chair, aiming for the back door. He caught up with her before she had taken two steps, bisecting her middle with a steely arm to anchor her against him.

    "Where do you think you're going?"

    " turn on the light."

    "Sit down."

    "The neighbors will know—"

    "I told you to sit down. And until I tell you otherwise, that's what you're going to do." He hauled her across the kitchen and pushed her into the chair. It was so dark that she didn't quite make the seat's center and nearly toppled out of it before regaining her balance.

    "I'm only trying to help you," she said. "The neighbors will know something is wrong if they saw me come in and I don't turn on any lights."

    Her threat was an empty one, and she rather imagined he knew it. She lived in a new condominium complex on the outskirts of Scottsdale. Fewer than half the units had been sold. No doubt he had selected her house for pilfering because of its remote location.

    She heard a metallic whispering noise coming out of the darkness. The sinister sound filled her with dread. She knew the terror of a small jungle animal when rustling leaves alert it that an unseen predator is nearby. Lucas Greywolf had spotted the rack of butcher knives on the countertop near the sink and had slipped one from the wooden scabbard.

    Expecting any moment to feel its cold metal edge slicing across her throat, she was stunned but at least grateful that she was still alive when the kitchen light came on, momentarily blinding her. She adjusted her eyes to the sudden brightness. He was still holding the long, gleaming silver blade of the knife to the light switch.

    From that intimidating sight, her eyes tracked the length of a brown, sinewy arm up to a curved shoulder, over to a determined, square chin, along a straight, narrow nose, and into the most chilling pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

    All her life she'd heard the expression "heart-stopping." Countless times she had casually used the adjective herself, describing any number of inconsequential things. But she'd never actually experienced that graphically descriptive sensation. Until now.

    Never had a pair of eyes conveyed such unmitigated contempt, such uncompromising hatred and undiluted bitterness.

    Unlike the rest of his features, which were clearly American Indian, his eyes belonged to an Anglo. They were gray, so light a gray they were almost transparent, which only made the pupils in their centers look even deeper and blacker. They seemed to have no necessity to blink, because they stared at her without movement. Set in that dark, brooding face, those steadfast, gray eyes were a startling contrast that held her attention far too long.

    She lowered her eyes, but when she saw the knife flash, she fearfully jerked them back up to him. He had merely sliced off a disk of summer sausage. As he raised it to his lips, the hard, set line lifted at one corner to form a smirking smile before straight, white teeth bit into the meat. He was enjoying her fear and that made her furious. By an act of will, she rid her face of any telltale expression and surveyed him coolly.

    Which might have been a mistake. Before tonight, if she had been asked to conjure up a picture of an escaped convict, it would never have resembled Lucas Greywolf. She vaguely remembered reading about his trial when it was making the news, but that had been several years ago. She recalled the prosecutors making him out to be a chronic troublemaker and rabble-rouser, a dissident who went around spreading malcontent among the Indians. But had the reports ever mentioned him being so handsome? If they had, she hadn't been paying attention.

    He was dressed in a blue chambray shirt that was no doubt prison issue. The sleeves had been ripped out, leaving ragged, stringy armholes. One of the sleeves had been fashioned into a headband, tied Apache-style around his head to hold back hair so unrelievedly black that it barely reflected the light shining directly on it. But then the dust clinging to it might have been partly responsible for that dull finish; his jeans and boots were covered with it.

    Excerpted from Honor Bound by Sandra Brown. Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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    Customer Reviews

    Average Rating 4.5
    ( 4 )
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    Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
    • Anonymous

      Posted January 24, 2006

      A Story To Remeber

      I read this book a long time ago and it was a story I never forgot. It lingers in your mind long after you've read it. Terrific!

      2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted March 24, 2001

      It was an honor to read this book.

      What a book. I didn't want to put it down. I have read many of her books before but this one was really good. Very suspenseful and keeping you on the edge of your seat while reading it. She described the characters like you were in the book going along with what was happening. I recommend this one definately.

      1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted December 22, 2005

      it was okay, NOT the best she ever written

      I love the characters, except the fact that that leading male tries so much so push her away not ot get connected with her in anyway. I also hate the fact that after she amitts she loves him he doesn't says it back. The ONLY times, (TWO) that he says it was that he didn't want to love her but does. He doesn't even says the words. And when he says that he didn't like to think of a time when he didn't love her. He never, not once, said 'I love you', when she said it many times to him.

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    • Anonymous

      Posted May 31, 2002

      The BEST~

      This book was one of the best that I have ever read! It has a mixture of love and hatred that almost everybody can relate too! Keep on Writing!

      Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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