Chapter 1
Gazing at the vastness of the ocean, Violet searched the horizon, hoping to catch sight of the land where she had been born. At last, she was returning home to Virginia.
The past three years in London had flown by in a whirl of high society, studies, and travel, and now she longed for a little peace and stability again.
She closed her eyes, inhaling the briny air as her heavy wool cloak shielded her from the wind.
She missed Russell Court—the scent of the tobacco fields, the vastness of the cotton plantations, and the great white house at the end of the majestic poplar avenue.
With her brown hair whipped by the wind, she sighed with joy, eager for the ship to dock at Newport News.
***
The return of the Russell family’s second daughter was celebrated like a festival.
During those first days back on her native soil, Violet rediscovered her childhood landscapes: galloping on Falcon, racing her brother, and letting her fantasies come alive in the forest.
Yet, a faint sense of unease grew inside her. She wondered how much she had changed during her time in Europe and what she truly wanted from her life.
She was now a woman caught between the innocence of her past and the freedom to shape her own destiny.
These thoughts crowded her mind on an unusually warm summer evening. After dinner, she claimed to be unwell to be left alone. She went to bed in a light batiste nightshirt, but the heat and her restlessness made sleep impossible.
Eventually, she stepped onto the terrace. The house was silent and the full moon illuminated the paths stretching toward the horizon, calling to her with the silent language of the wild.
Driven by a strange agitation, she decided to ride Falcon. She took a shirt and trousers belonging to her brother from a trunk, slipped on leather boots, and climbed down the balcony via a sturdy vine.
In the stables, Falcon greeted her with a happy snort. She mounted him without a saddle, seeking the raw freedom they both loved.
Once far from the house, she urged him into a wild gallop, letting the wind tangle her hair and release the tension that gripped her heart. Later, she allowed him to drink from a stream at the forest’s edge and dismounted.
She climbed a great oak, settling on a branch as she had as a child. Peace finally washed over her.
Until she heard something else. At first, it was only a vague sound. Then, as it grew closer, she recognized the voices of two men.
“Hey, Jessie! Damn it all, there’s water here. I’m tired of walking. Let’s camp here for the night.”
A thin man emerged from the underbrush and looked around with sharp, suspicious eyes. He had short, straw-coloured hair, a long, hooked nose, and wore simple brown clothes.
“Yes… this will do,” he replied in a nasal, shrill voice.
The other man, slightly taller, was stocky, with thinning red hair, a large nose, and sagging cheeks. His wide, pale eyes revealed unease and fear.
Violet froze. She was barely ten yards away. They weren’t locals; no one from the area would dare camp on her father’s land. The heavier man drank from the stream while the thin one scanned the woods nervously.
“Hey, Tyrone! Are you out of your mind?!” Jessie hissed, striking the other for trying to start a fire. “Someone might see us. Hernandez won’t be pleased if we don’t bring him what he paid for. And I feel like someone’s been tracking us since Washington.”
Tyrone stiffened. “You don’t think… it’s him?”
Jessie grimaced, clutching a knife. “Whether it’s that cursed man or someone else, my instincts say we’re being followed. I hope it isn’t him, Tyrone, or you’ll never eat again.”
They lay down, Jessie clutching a bag to his chest. Soon, both were asleep.
Violet waited for their breathing to steady. Falcon was too far to whistle for without alerting them.
She decided to climb down and escape on foot. Moving with agonizing care, she descended and hid behind a nearby beech tree, trying to calm her racing heart.
Suddenly, a large hand clamped over her mouth.
Her instinct was to scream, but only a muffled cry escaped her lips. The pressure of the palm increased until it hurt.
She struggled, but the man behind her pinned her firmly against the tree. She caught his scent. Grass. Earth. Tobacco.
His hard muscles pressed against her body and, suddenly, a wave of heat rushed through her. She lifted her eyes to his face, lit by the moon.
Black, wavy hair fell to the nape of his neck. A rough beard shadowed a strong jaw. Above a straight nose, two eyes the colour of the ocean stared down at her with dangerous intensity.
Still covering her mouth, he raised a finger to his lips, signalling for silence. Then he leaned closer to her ear.
“Stay still,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.
“And don’t do anything foolish, unless you’d like me to tie you up and gag you. Which, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
His voice softened slightly at the last words. He inhaled slowly, as though catching the scent of her hair. Then his tone turned cold again.
“Unfortunately, Miss, I don’t have time for you. But if you try to run or make a sound, I swear this will be the last moon you ever see.”
He slowly stepped back, never taking his eyes off hers.
Violet finally had the chance to observe him fully. He was tall, wearing black boots and brown leather trousers that emphasized the powerful muscles of his legs.
A gun belt hung at his hips, holding a pistol on one side and a tomahawk on the other. Above it, a dark shirt lay open at the throat, where a red neckerchief was loosely tied.
Strength. Danger. And something wild.
The man noticed her gaze and curved his lips in a lazy smile that looked more like a predator’s grin. Then he turned and moved silently into the forest toward the two men.
Each step was fluid, controlled, animal. A panther. That was what he reminded her of.
Violet watched him disappear. Though reckless, she began moving in the opposite direction.
Yet the memory of his gaze followed her. In those eyes, she had sensed a wild force—a power she had no desire to surrender to. She remembered the warmth of his touch, and a shiver ran down her spine. Was it fear or something deeper?
She pushed the thought away, focusing on the path home, sensing that for the men in the clearing, something worse than death waited in the shadows.
***
Kian approached the two men slowly, carefully weighing his next move.
After days of relentless pursuit, he had finally caught up with them. He had tracked them from Washington, questioning men in taverns until he found their trail.
Now, so close to the end, everything could still fall apart.
And what in hell was a young woman doing alone in the forest in the middle of the night?
He had been waiting for the men to fall asleep when he noticed a figure moving through the trees toward him. At first glance, he had taken the stranger for some kind of runaway boy, judging by the clothes.
Where had the creature come from? He hadn’t seen anyone within several yards of the clearing. He couldn’t risk a shout that might alert Hernandez’s men.
So, he had moved quickly. He had clamped one hand over the intruder’s mouth, his weight pinning the smaller body against the tree. Only then had he realized the truth.
It was a woman. Her breasts pressed insistently against his chest, and the long-suppressed desire for the warmth of a woman’s body flared awake inside him in an instant.
There had been an immediate tension between them; he had felt it the moment their bodies touched. But he could not afford distractions.
Still, when he looked into her eyes, silver and luminous in the moonlight, he felt something unexpected stir within him. The intoxicating scent of jasmine drifted from her hair, clouding his senses.
His desire awakened fully. Had he not been hunting two dangerous men, he would have gladly taken the time to seduce and tame that tempting creature with the soft curves and intoxicating scent that now filled his arms.
One glance had told him everything he needed to know. She was tall and slender, with enviable curves accentuated by the tight trousers she wore.
Long dark hair fell to her hips, framing a delicate yet determined face, a rosebud mouth, and eyes the colour of stormy silver, like a wildcat’s.
Too great a temptation. Especially now that she had stirred the animal instinct within him.
He had warned her with absolute coldness, certain she would obey. Women usually yielded to his magnetism; men respected his authority.
Still, he would need to question her later. She had seen too much. She had already seen Hernandez’s men. Now she had seen him as well.
He would return for her later and discover exactly what sort of woman she was. Perhaps he could buy her silence. And perhaps—he allowed himself a slow, wicked smile at the thought—he might obtain something more than silence.
But that would come later. For now, he had work to do.
The two men slept deeply, unaware of the silent danger approaching them from the darkness.
Jessie Flikman clutched the bag, while Tyrone snored.
Kian used their sleep against them. He tied a rope to a sturdy branch and slipped a loop around Jessie’s ankles.
With swift precision, he pulled the bag away.
Jessie’s eyes flew open when he felt the empty air.
He leapt up, but the rope tightened, and a second later, he was hanging upside down.
His shout woke Tyrone, who lunged with a roar.
Kian schived, drove a kick into the man’s stomach, and slammed an elbow into his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
He glanced at the thrashing Jessie.
“Damn you, Richardson!” Jessie spat. “Damn the day I met you!”
Kian growled, “Keep that mouth shut before I decide to wring your neck.”
Tyrone made one last desperate move.
Kian hurled him against the tree trunk; the man’s head struck a branch with a crack.
As he collapsed, his leg accidentally kicked Jessie in the head.
Both went still—one hanging, one sprawled.
“Well,” Kian muttered, “that settles that.”
He hesitated, hand on his tomahawk, a bloodthirsty shadow flickering in his eyes before passing.
With the bag over his shoulder, he slipped back into the forest.
As he walked, the image of the girl returned to him.
A slow smile curved his lips. A new energy stirred inside him. And with it, the slow return of a dangerous desire.
