Fleeing the clutches of her disreputable relatives, Sera Livingston has made her escape to Australia's Outback. Disguised as a boy, sharp-tongued Sera searches for her sister but is attacked by bushrangers. Thievery becomes her only chance at surviv...
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Sera had been foolish.
Agreeing to such a ridiculous ploy, she had not been in her right mind. All because of that wickedly, beautiful man with such potent masculinity. The very one that's next to her right at this moment with the remnants of that sweet cigar scent lacing with his masculine sweat. All he had to do was simply stand in front of her with desire burning in his gaze and she consented.
Nervous fingers tugged at the silk fabric of the wedding dress Ana had made for her. It was simple, nothing extravagant, and it was suffocating her— that or the nerves splicing threw her veins. In an effort to let out an inconspicuous breath, Sera's sheer cotton veil betrayed her, floating away from her face and exposing her anxiety.
It didn't help that the whole town was reacting in pure delight at the scandalous surprise of the great bounty hunter, Roman Remington, taking a wife so suddenly. Prying eyes awaited her just behind the closed doors.
As Sera had stomped over to the church with her bouquet in hand, gossip followed her, whispers reaching the heels of her feet, nipping at them, and causing her to practically run inside. Even now, despite the closed doors, she sensed them, felt the warm breath of each whisper crawling up her spine and hitting her skin.
Oh, how Sera wanted to run! Instead, she stood, hand trembling as she waited to speak the words that would forever unite her to this man. Remington, however, showed no emotion. He was calm, collected, not a single expression crossing his features.
And it irked Sera. "Sorry," she whispered behind the curtain of her veil, "is our wedding day boring you?"
Those cold, calculating eyes cut to her and a flash of laughter pierced through them, as if it was a light cutting across a black sea. "Not at all, petite souris. I was just busy thinking—"
"Thinking about what?" Sera hissed quietly so the priest kept prattling on.
A very small yet wicked twitch raised the corner of his mouth for a fraction of a second. "Things."
"Things?"
"Yep."
Sera leaned in, her eyes on the priest, trying to be discreet. "What kind of things exactly?"
Those sensational and desire-filled eyes clash with hers once again. "You."
"Me, but I'm right here?"
Only a deep, low chuckle answered Sera.
The priest, finally having had enough, cleared his throat and the two diverted their attention back to him. Irritated bumps bloomed to life on her skin like an angry feline with its rolled up back and fur sticking up. She was taking a grave risk here, a risk she never intended to take.
Marriage.
For a man to legally own her and do with her as he pleased. She had no option but to trust Remington, that he would give the freedom and safety he had promised her.
