Prologue

TO SAY ALL MY dreams had come true would be a lie.

It would be a lie because when I was twenty-two, stepping onto a flight with a boy I thought I wanted, ready to explore a world I didn’t understand, desperately trying to figure out who I was and where I fit in, my dreams were...unformed.

I knew I wanted to be happy, financially free, and content in my purpose and accomplishments, but I didn’t know what career or life choices would grant such lofty goals.

All I knew was I had to travel.

I had to find meaning to my life.

Had to find where I was supposed to belong.

The urge was undeniable.

An itch in my soul that demanded I keep searching, keep looking because I might not have specific dreams pulling me forward, but someone did, and their dreams were fully formed and all-powerful.

Sully.

He was what I was searching for when I didn’t even know it.

He was the itch I couldn’t ignore, forcing me to travel to exotic places to find him.

But I would never have found him unless he found me first.

He’d had a dream. He’d fallen in love with that dream. And he’d given my description to traffickers who kidnapped and sold young women.

My life became his.

And because of his dreams, all mine came true.

I supposed many would call that serendipitous. A perfect happily ever after.

I just called it fate.

What other name could you give the absolute joy, undying delight, and incredible life we now shared together?

His dreams were my dreams.

My dreams were his dreams.

We shared the same heart.

Destiny. 

Chapter One

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HER FLAMING RED HAIR glittered like fire as she swung the sword, slicing through the air between us. “Back up. I won’t ask again.”

She’d run the wrong way.

Trapped inside a small ruin, she had nowhere to go.

A ruin with thick stone walls, no roof, and the natural décor of moss, lichen, and determined weeds growing through the cracks. A ruin far from the road and anyone who might hear her scream.

She was totally at my mercy.

I crossed my arms, dragging my eyes up and down the delectable gown she wore. A rich royal blue encased her, hinting she was high born and untouchable. The only thing was, I’d already touched her. Hurt her.

Her stiff petticoats and silky gown wouldn’t protect her. I’d proven that fact. Her dress showed evidence of my touching, thanks to the torn-apart stitching and fabric hanging in rags off her shoulder.

I wasn’t sorry I’d destroyed such a pretty dress.

She’d refused to step from her carriage.

So I’d helped her out.

Roughly.

“Put down my sword.”

“Come any closer and I’ll cut you,” she hissed.

I chuckled. “I’d like to see yer try.”

She bared her teeth. Such pretty white teeth. Perfect for smiling at tea parties and balls but not so much for scaring men like me.

I splayed my calloused hands that were used to pilfering, murder, and a life of crime as a Scottish highwayman. My kilt, that used to be shades of burgundy and taupe, was now mostly brown from sleeping in the dirt beneath trees while waiting for fat little paydays to come riding along.

“If you hadn’t chased away my carriage, you could’ve taken my dowry. It was substantial.”

“So yer were off to be married.” My brogue sounded so uncultured and wild compared to her haughty English tone. She should know that the Scots didn’t take kindly to the English running around their countryside, especially considering the year was closer to 1740 instead of 2020. “Who are yer marrying?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s become my business now that yer’ve become my property. I need to ken who I’ll be pissing off when yer don’t show up at the altar.”

Her nose tipped up, sending more fire through her hair. “I’m not your property. And if you truly want to know, his name is...eh, Alexander.”

“Alexander what?”

“Um...” She scrunched up her face, searching for Gaelic surnames. “Mackenzie.”

“Mackenzie.” I smiled at her lack of ingenuity. “That bastard? Nae. I have a much better plan than you marrying that old codfish.”

Her lips twitched, but she stayed in character, brandishing the sword as I stepped closer, pushing her against the weed-covered stone wall. “Stop, scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel?” I licked my lips. “What was the word yer used the other night? Cad? Rake?”

“It was cur. But you fit all of them.”

“If yer already think so lowly of me, allow me to fulfil yer expectations.” I stepped again, willingly allowing the blade tip to press against my muslin shirt. My cock grew thicker beneath my kilt, free to harden without underwear to make me ache.

“I’ll run you through if you touch me.”

“No, yer won’t.” I smirked, my thick black beard bristling. “I have another sword to give yer.” Lifting my kilt, I revealed just how much this fantasy affected me. “That’s going inside yer, princess.”

Her arm strength wobbled a little. Lust flushed her pretty porcelain cheeks.

The whinny of a horse trickled through the trees, hinting her carriage driver had gotten the bolting horses under control and had come back for her.

Pity.

I should’ve struck the beasts harder—spooked them so their mistress stayed mine for as long as I wanted to keep her. After all, this was just business. A tax to be paid for using my stretch of the highway.

Our eyes locked as the electricity that always infected us reached a fever pitch. As much as I enjoyed foreplay with words, I wanted to touch her. Feel how wet she was. Hear her moans as I fucked her.

With a swipe of my arm, I knocked the sword out of her hands and winced at the heavy clatter of metal on the moss-covered stone.

“Hey!” She went to parry and gallop off, but I was prepared for that. I knew her better than I knew myself these days.

“Gotcha.” Grabbing her by the nape, I pulled her into me, squeezing the feminine column of regal muscles and delicate bones.

She froze in my hold, breathing hard as I lowered my mouth to hers.

I didn’t kiss her.

Not straight away.

I stared into her gorgeous grey eyes that had once haunted my dreams, and I saw past the disguises we’d cyphered. I loved this woman more than anything else on this goddamn planet. No matter the year, the place, or the appearance.

I drowned in her stare.

And it was her who broke the moment.

Rising on her tiptoes, she smashed her lips to mine, kissing me hard and swift, making my hand uncurl around her neck in surprise.

The moment she was free, she took off.

Her royal blue dress fanned out behind her as she scrambled over fallen rocks and dashed beneath an archway that was pockmarked with cannon fire.

Watching her run activated primitive possession.

“Yer will regret that.” Power charged down my legs, and I gave chase.

The thud of my boots thundered over the ground while her dainty slippers didn’t make a sound. The swish of her petticoats was barely noticeable over the heaviness of my breathing.

She didn’t get far.

Through another archway, this one almost intact with hints of carvings from past stone masons, and into a room that I assumed was once a hall. A large fireplace waited at one end, its chimney broken in half and roof scattered by our feet.

I snagged her around the middle just as she went to leap over a large boulder, yanking her backward, crashing her against my chest.

“Running was a bad, bad idea,” I growled, loving that she’d run because I was desperate to punish her.

My hands groped her chest, fisting her breasts through the corset while cursing the fact that I couldn’t cup them through the restrictive boning.

“Let me go!”

“Never.” Grabbing both sides of the corset, I tore it down the middle. The fine ribbon holding it together snapped, freeing her breasts and leaving her gown gaping all the way to her belly button.

“Oh, my God.” She scrambled to get free, her willpower to run fading beneath her own lust. My teeth found her neck and clamped down hard while my fingers found her nipples and pinched with no mercy.

Her spine bowed, shoving her ass into my cock, giving me something to grind against.

We stood there, in a Scottish ruin set in some wooded battleground between Redcoats and Jacobites, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

Marching her forward, still squeezing her breasts and biting her throat, I found a rock large enough for her to lean on then spun her around.

She gasped, her eyes glowing with silver desire as I dropped to my knees and shoved her stupid petticoats and silk gown over my shoulders.

The world went dark as the fabric settled over me. The scent of her lust was heady and hot beneath the material, and I tore at the pantaloons, making a hole over her pussy.

Her hands landed on my head through the thick dress as my tongue lashed over her clit.

Her scream was muffled, but her full-body tremble made me groan with my own pent-up hunger.

I wasn’t gentle.

I’d gone past gentle the moment I’d dragged her from the carriage with full intentions to take her ruthlessly for using this stretch of road.

I devoured her with my tongue and punished her with two fingers as I speared them deep inside and found precisely how wet she was.

Drenched.

Her release fisted my two fingers as I bit her clit and thrust into her. Short and fierce, her orgasm was over as quickly as it’d struck.

I wanted what she’d just had.

I wanted to be inside her when I did.

Withdrawing my fingers, I fought my way out of the dense jungle of her dress, sucking in tree-green air instead of her heady musk.

Her hair stuck to her cheeks, and she blinked in a daze, unprepared for me to swipe at her legs and send her tumbling to the dirt beside me.

I caught her before she landed, then spread her gently on her back.

That was the only thing I’d do that was gentle.

The next moment, I shoved her skirts up to her waist, ensuring I didn’t cover her naked breasts or the red bite mark on her throat from my teeth.

She squirmed beneath me, her own greed splaying her legs wide. The urge to continue playing in character fought against our bond, giving her a flash of ferocity and fight.

“Get off me!” She shoved my shoulders, failing to push me off her.

“Not until I’ve fucked yer.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Lies. Yer want me to touch yer. Yer’re begging for it.” My hips pinned her down, all while my right-hand pulled up my kilt and removed any obstruction between us.

“No!”

“I told yer, yer mine.” I surged up.

My cock pierced her.

She screamed as I mounted and sank deep.

Holy.

Fuck.

Tight and deep and hot.

The urge to let go and spill inside her cramped my balls, and I pressed my forehead to hers, grappling for control.

“Fuck, yer feel too good.”

Her fingers yanked at my long hair. “Deeper.”

I chuckled. “Told yer, yer wanted me.”

“Do it.” Her hips arched, forcing every inch of me inside her.

We both groaned and shuddered.

Electricity zapped from her skin to mine, turning sex into magic.

I thrust, sending another crackle of fireworks through my blood.

“Oh—” she moaned and rocked with me, crushing our bodies together so no space, no air, no clothing existed between us.

I would never get sick of being inside this woman.

Never get over how perfectly we fit, no matter who we pretended to be.

Her mouth opened wide as I thrust up, filling her as much as possible. Her legs spread wider, her ankles trying to lock around my ass but failing with the heaviness of her dress.

I rutted into her, sharp and quick, taking her as viciously as she would’ve been taken by a Scottish highwayman if this was real.

“Feel that?” I growled into her ear. “My cock is inside yer. That means you can’t marry that codfish because you’re sullied. No longer a virgin for marriage.”

Her lips twisted. “Sullied, huh?”

I grinned. “By the worst kind of cur.”

Her fingernails scraped my shoulder blades as I continued to drive into her. “Sullied by Sully. It seems you have a knack—” She gasped as I thrust harder.

“Seeing as I’ve taken yer virginity, I might as well take yer dowry too and make yer an honest woman.” I kissed her, nipping at her lower lip, plunging my tongue in time to my cock thrusting inside her pussy. “I suppose yer’ll do as a wife.”

“You suppose?” She bit my bottom lip in retaliation.

I fucked her harder, making both of us breathless. “I’m not the marrying type, but if you let me fuck yer like this every day, marriage won’t be too bad.”

Her back bowed as I quickened our maddening pace. Our hearts pounded to a chaotic beat, pushing us closer and closer to an orgasm. “You can have me any way you want.”

“That a promise?” I dug my elbows into the ground, driving up and hard.

“It’s a vow.” She kissed me.

Our tongues lashed and our bodies thrust, and we rode each other up the mountain, through the clenching waves of bliss, and clung to each other as those waves turned to jerks of oversensitivity and aftermath.

Our orgasms crested and ended at the same time, leaving us boneless in each other’s arms.

Breathing hard, I looked down at the redheaded beauty who had mud smeared on her cheek and leaves tangled in her hair. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breath as I cupped her jaw and ran my thumb over her well-kissed bottom lip.

I wanted to tell her I loved her.

My entire chest swelled with overwhelming affection, but I had no words to give depth to what she did to me or reveal just how much playing with her in this way meant.

She was everything.

And I would never stop being humbled and awed that she loved me back.

“You’re looking at me that way again.”

“What way?” I cocked my head.

“The way that makes me think you’re contemplating how to cut your heart from your chest to hand it to me.”

“My heart belongs to yer.”

“And mine to you.” She kissed me sweetly. “Always.”

I shivered and rocked into her, keeping us joined. “I’ll hold yer to that.”

“Good.” Wriggling a little under my weight, she sighed contentedly and looked down at her naked chest. “Good job I don’t have to return to my carriage in shame. My dress is in pieces.”

“Yer breasts are too pretty to hide.”

“Do you want other men to stare at me?”

“Computer coded men, I’m fine with. I thoroughly enjoyed our audience fantasy last week. However, anyone real? No fuckin’ way.”

She laughed softly. “That Scottish accent you have going on is making me want you again.”

“Oh, yeah?” I raised an eyebrow, withdrawing a little only to plunge back into her. “How much?”

“Enough to do this.” Bringing her knee up, she successfully dislodged me, unlinking us with a wince and a wet glide. Before I could compute that I was no longer inside her, she rolled to her hands and knees, shoved away her broken dress, and bolted from the ruin and into the woods wearing only sheer white stockings and a garter belt.

And wasn’t that the best view in the world? My wife’s perfect ass running away from me.

She wanted me to chase, to catch, to fuck.

It will be my fucking pleasure.

Pushing to my feet, I shoved off my kilt and ran after her.