Twilight's Daughter - PRE-ORDER FOR SEP 25

He’s everything she hates and fears, but she won’t survive without him

When her daughter is kidnapped, impulsive young widow Solaine Granger defies her wealthy uncle and ends up on the run with an outlawed bushranger.

Henry Hawke has escaped execution on Cockatoo Island and sees Solaine as his ticket to freedom across the Queensland border. But spoiled Solaine isn’t the fragile damsel he hoped for. Rather, she's an almighty pain in the neck and he can't wait to be rid of her.

As they join forces to outwit the bounty hunters on their trail and rescue Solaine's daughter, they forge an unexpected bond - and learn that when love chooses you, it may demand too high a price.

Chapter 18
Solaine

HE DRAGGED ME into the shade of a sapling and fanned my face with his hat. When that didn’t rouse me, he retrieved the flask from my saddlebag and trickled the last of our water between my lips.

I coughed weakly. "I ... I can’t breathe."

He hesitated, then began unbuttoning my blouse, his big fingers struggling with the tiny embroidered buttons. When my shirt gaped, he picked up his hat and fanned me again.

"Better, Miss Granger?”

"My stays," I gasped softly. "Reach up under my chemise to the back and unlace them."

He hesitated. "It’s been a while since I—"

"Hurry!"

He made as if to turn me around, but this drew a loud choking noise from my throat. I found his hand and moved it around my waist, bringing him closer, almost into an embrace. "Up under the chemise. Like this."

He pressed close, his breath hot on my ear. Hooking his fingers through the soft lacing, he fumbled to untie the intricate pattern of loops.

Meanwhile my own fingers went to work, light as butterflies, swift as wasps. Locating the buttons on his waistcoat, fluttering lower, lower until they reached the waistband. I breathed a prayer as my touch found the hard object I sought. I took hold of the grip and, in one fluid move, seized Hawke’s revolver in my hand and jammed the muzzle against his belly.

"Not a move, Mr Hawke." My thumb clicked back the hammer. "I’d hate to accidentally blast a hole in you. Blood is such a nightmare to get out, and my blouse is from Paris."

"What the heck?"

"Back away now, sir."

He was on his knees before me, his face like thunder. Slowly he got to his feet.

"You fainted … I thought —"

"A ruse to get you near. Now, please step back and I’ll be on my way."

He did as I said, grumbling under his breath.

I motioned with the revolver. “Over there by that tree. Oh, and Mr Hawke?”

“What?”

I couldn’t help a little smile. “The year is 1880. Women’s corsets lace at the back, of course, as they have always done. But these days we have front buttoning as well, thanks to hooks and eyes.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Oh, Mr Hawke. There won’t be a next time. Now, over by the tree, if you will.”

He did as I said. Keeping my sights trained on him, I moved out of range. Six cartridges sat in the chamber. Hawke had counted them himself last night. If I missed the first time, even on the second, I had enough rounds to at least immobilise him.

Shadowlark whinnied.

Hawke's gaze softened. “Your aim’s all over the place, Miss Granger. You’ll blow your head off if you fire now. Here –” He raised his hands and shuffled nearer. “At least let me show you how it’s done.”

“Stay back!”

The revolver shook in my hands. What had he called it, a Colt Navy, police issue? How fitting then that it would put a stop to one more criminal.

I swallowed. I was doing the right thing. Of course I was. Rather than spending a week travelling in the wrong direction, trusting the word of a convicted killer who was probably planning to shoot me once we crossed the border, I could be riding back to Elliotville to pick up my daughter’s trail this very afternoon.

My finger tightened on the trigger.

Think of Charlotte. And think of poor doomed Billy, his sweet life cut short by someone exactly like Henry Hawke, a highwayman and bushranger, ruthless to the core. Think of the home we might have had, me and Billy and Charlotte. The sweet life we might have lived. A little cottage. A garden. The wooden bed and feather mattress that Billy had promised to make for me. Nights curled together in the warm darkness, far from the goings on of the rest of the world …

Hawke smiled, patting his heart. “Go on, Miss Granger. Do what you must.”

I took aim.

Just as Father had shown me all those years ago. Only back then my hand hadn’t trembled so. Sliding my finger into the trigger guard. Settling my finger on the trigger, a butterfly’s kiss. Holding my breath. The sweet cottage vanished from my thoughts. The garden vanished too, and Billy and me curled together. All gone. In their place, I thought of the crude hut with log walls and a tin trunk as a table. A bed of sticks and the spicy scent of wild cassinnia flowers invading the night air.

And Henry Hawke, sitting watch at the door. Shadows caressing that face of his, as though committing it to memory. The sculpted jaw and wide unsmiling mouth, the jagged cheekbones and storm-blue eyes that seemed to see beneath my skin.

But Hawke was a criminal.

An outlaw. A murderer, some said. A dangerous man who, if I didn’t stop him now, was going to cross the border and continue killing, everywhere he went, leaving behind a murderous trail of blood. He might not have taken my girl, but he was keeping me from finding out who did. Keeping me from finding her.

I fired twice.

The first shot tore bark off a sapling.

The second sent Hawke stumbling backwards. He teetered for a moment, then clutched his arm and stood swaying in the tree shadows, eyeing me narrowly.

“The heck, Miss Granger. What’d you do that for?”

“Because you are a monster and I need to make sure you don’t follow after me.”

Keeping the gun trained on him, I backed towards the horse. I collected the rifle from where it lay on the ground and jammed it into the saddlebag. Hoisting myself up into the saddle, one hand clutching the revolver while my long skirts seemed everywhere at once, suddenly there I was looking down at the man who had, until now, held me hostage.

Hawke stepped forward. “You won’t get far. It’ll be dark soon. Even someone who knows this land can get lost.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr Hawke. My sense of direction is excellent.”

“How will you eat, find water? How the hell will you know where to go?”

“I’ll manage. It’s what I do.”

“For God’s sake, Miss Granger. Don’t ride off like this, it’s too dangerous. Stay here, we can talk it out.”

“I’ve nothing more to say to you, sir.”

“You won’t survive five minutes on your own!”

“Just watch me.”

Nudging my heels into Shadowlark’s flanks, I eased her around, my sights still trained on the man in the clearing. As I reached the trees, I loosened my stranglehold on the revolver, moved the hammer into the safety notch and tucked the weapon into my waistband. Spurring the horse again with my heels, I steered her southwards and soon we were galloping back along the narrow trail we had followed to get here, the wind of freedom finally lifting my sails.