The Outlaw's Daughter - PRE-ORDER FOR 10 NOV 25

Notorious bushranger Henry Hawke has spent ten years in chains, but nothing could prepare him for the shackles of desire when he meets Solaine Granger. She's everything he can never have—a lady, a mother, a woman who believes men like him deserve to hang.

Young widow Solaine has been taught that men like Henry are monsters. But when her daughter is kidnapped and the law fails her, she's forced to strike a devil's bargain with the one man who might help her—the dangerous outlaw who haunts her dreams.

But as they flee through rugged Australian bushland together, Solaine discovers that the most dangerous thing about Henry Hawke isn't his past—it's the way he makes her feel. He's an outlaw with nothing to lose. She's a lady with everything at stake. Together, they'll risk it all for love.

Chapter One
SOLAINE

Golden sunlight filtered through the stable doors, casting long shadows across the hay-strewn floor. The cool morning air was fresh with the mingling scent of horses and leather.

I watched my daughter's small hands patting the grooming brush over the pony's flank, her little teeth nipping her lip in concentration.

"Gentle strokes, love,” I said, guiding her hand. “Don’t be shy. She trusts you, see how she leans into your touch?"

"Like this?" Charlotte smoothed the brush down Sparkle's chestnut neck slowly and with more pressure, her liquid brown gaze darting to mine. In a few days, when she turned five, I’d promised her riding lessons, and she was eager to learn.

"Exactly. You're good with her, you know." I smiled, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Your grandmother was good with horses. Her name was Charlotte, too, though everyone called her Lottie. You remind me of her."

“What was she like?”

“Brave and beautiful, just like you. She loved horses, and rode every—”

I tensed, cutting my gaze to the stable door. The faint thunder of hoofbeats broke into the quiet, getting louder.

“Someone’s here,” I murmured, my pulse fluttering in my throat. Dust churned out in the yard, and the pounding became a roar as four men on horseback approached the house.

A shiver went through me.

The stable vanished. Years stripped away. I was eleven again, watching from the window as mounted troopers surrounded our family farm. My father's resigned face as they dragged him out, cuffing his wrists. His eyes finding mine: "Be brave, little sparrow."

Charlotte tugged my skirt. "Who are they, Mama?"

I blinked in the golden light, forcing my lips into a smile. Taking the brush from her, I set it aside, my fingers trembling slightly as I drew her protectively to my side.

"They've probably just come to see Uncle,” I told her, moving closer to the doorway, keeping to the shadows. “Let's stay in here with Sparkle, out of their way."

Through the stable door, I watched the dust-covered hunting party dismount in the yard. The leader, a wiry trooper with a sweaty, sunburned face, held something in his hand that made my stomach knot—a sheet of rumpled paper.

Uncle Niall emerged from the house to greet the men.

“Morning, Commissioner,” the trooper called, removing his hat as he approached my uncle. “I’ve news of a convict who escaped from Cockatoo Island a month or so back. We’ve had reports of robberies south of Tamworth. It could be him heading this way.” He brandished the paper. “Here’s a likeness, in case you see him around.”

Uncle Niall took the paper, squinting at it in the morning light, the breeze catching his sparse gingery hair, a frown carving his bony face.

"Cockatoo Island, you say? Thought it was inescapable?"

The trooper spat into the dust. "Turns out he knew how to swim. Most don't."

“He’s a long way from Sydney.” My uncle's voice was carefully neutral, but his jaw ticked. “Reward?"

"Government's offering a thousand pounds for his capture,” the trooper said. “Dead or alive."

I inhaled sharply, and Uncle Niall glanced over to where we stood in the shadows of the stable doorway. His eyes locked with mine, a silent warning, before turning back to the trooper.

"A thousand pounds?" He huffed, handing back the drawing. "A hefty sum. The bounty hunters will be out in force. What's this fellow's name?"

"Henry Hawke.” The trooper tucked the paper inside his jacket. "Been in chains for ten years, escaped with another inmate who was shot and killed in the water. One of them murdered a guard before they jumped. It was likely Hawke, he's a vicious mongrel. Deadly as they come."

As they described the convict—tall, dark-haired, with a sparrow tattoo on his forearm—I touched my throat. A phantom noose tightened, cutting off my breath. My father had a sparrow tattoo. He used to flex his arm so the muscles bunched, making the inky bird’s wings appear to move. My work takes me far and wide, Solaine, he used to say, his eyes crinkling. But my little sparrow always guides me safely home.

“Oh, Papa.”

I shuddered, closing my eyes, flashing back in time. Eleven years old again, standing in the courthouse yard with Uncle Niall's hand clamped on my shoulder, drowning in the smells of wet hemp rope and tears as I watched the noose slip over my father's head—

"Mama?" Charlotte whispered.

I blinked, willing my racing heart to slow as the sound of retreating horses pounded along the road.

The stables smelled of horses and leather, not hemp rope and fear. Charlotte was safe beside me, her dark hair catching the morning light that streamed through the open doorway. Not Papa. Not the gallows.

Uncle Niall entered the stables, his footsteps heavy on the packed earth floor. Charlotte peered up at him with big eyes, but he barely glanced at her as he strode to the stall where his big horse Caesar waited. I’d saddled Caesar earlier that morning, knowing Uncle had a long day inspecting the new goldmine north of Elliotville. He took his role as Gold Commissioner seriously, and news of the convict would now occupy him until the man was caught.

He led the bay gelding through the doors and outside, swinging up into the saddle, glancing back at Charlotte and me as we trailed after him into the sunlight. He sent me a look—stark and disapproving, as though blaming me for the criminal's escape. Blaming me for all the heartbreak he still carried inside him.

Charlotte waved to her uncle, her small hand fluttering happily. He tipped his hat at her, his angular face grim.

"Take the child inside, Solaine," he called over his shoulder, gathering the reins. "Lock the doors while I'm gone."

I nodded, my arm tightening around Charlotte's shoulders as the morning sun beat down on us. We watched Uncle Niall ride away, his back straight, disappearing in a cloud of dust down the long drive.

"Why is Uncle cross, Mama?" Charlotte’s dark gaze followed until the swirling dust swallowed him from view. “Did we do something wrong?”

I sighed, steering her back towards the house. "He's not cross, love. He's worried, that's all."

"About the bad man?"

A chill ran through me, chasing the morning’s warmth. “He’s got a lot on his mind, that’s all. He’s an important man, and clever. He’ll make sure the convict is caught and locked up again. You can count on it.”