Cecilia, eight years before

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Her backpack was heavy and her feet ached. But the view was incredible.

Sharp, rocky cliffs made soft by gently rolling green hills. Miles and miles of nothing except the sea breeze and grass waving in the wind.

Okay, maybe not miles of nothing since the town she was staying at was tucked just behind the jagged outcrop behind her, but it was so quiet and peaceful here that she could pretend it was just her and the countryside.

Pretend it was two hundred years ago and she was wearing a long flowing dress instead of jeans and a sweatshirt. Pretend she was the heroine in a novel, that her hero would appear just over the hill, striding determinedly toward her.

Taking her in his arms.

Slanting his mouth across hers.

CeCe snorted. This was real life. Heroes didn’t exist.

Plus, heroes weren’t wanted. This was her trip, the one she’d saved and scrimped for. A sabbatical between graduating high school and beginning college. A chance for her to find her place in the world. A vacation that was supposed to have been shared with her three best friends.

And one that was now a solo expedition.

Which was fine. They’d had their reasons. Not enough money—though Stacy had promised to save, not blow it on a new car. Not strong enough to stand up to her parents—realistically Helen would probably never find her spine where her parents were concerned. Not wanting to leave her boyfriend—now that was the one that had really hurt because Tess’s boyfriend was a total douche canoe.

But none of that mattered.

CeCe had spent hundreds of hours babysitting, multiple summers lifeguarding at the pool and giving swim lessons on the side.

She’d saved the money, so she was going.

Even if her parents hated it.

Even if they threatened to not pay for college.

That had been the scariest part, worrying about her future, weighing her options. A few months she’d dreamed about for an eternity versus the rest of her life.

But she’d persisted. She’d applied for scholarships, worked harder than ever on her art and her swimming and she’d gotten a full ride.

So her parents hadn’t had anything to hold over her.

And that had been almost more freeing than actually stepping on the plane.

No more strings. No more affection or money tied to her grades or whether she placed first at a tournament.

She was finally free to be herself. Only herself. And to have it be enough.

For a little while at least. Because come September her life would be run by her swim coaches. Training. Diet. Extracurricular activities. Her time would no longer be solely her own.

Which was why she was so damned determined to enjoy this trip. To make the freedom last for the next four years.

She paused on the trail, really a barely worn depression in the waist-high grass, and drew in a deep breath. It was filled with salt and moisture and—

“Watch out!”

The warning took her by surprise, so it took her a moment to react.

A moment too long.

Hoofbeats pounded behind her, louder than she could have imagined on the soft earth. She whirled, gasping when she saw a huge black horse only a few feet away.

“Move!”

She couldn’t. Her feet were glued to the ground. She saw the horse’s eyes, wild and panicked, its lungs expanding and collapsing on short, staccato breaths.

It was spooked.

“Hey. Hey!” She said again, louder and firmer when the horse didn’t slow, and put her hands up. “Stop.” The horse slowed. “Hey, it’s okay.” She stepped to the side, calmer now that the animal wasn’t actively attempting to mow her down. She’d grown up near horses, ridden loads of them in the little town in Utah where she’d been born.

Before her father had sold the ranch and taken a different job.

Before everything had been twisted upside down.

She hadn’t known how to handle all the changes in her life back then, but she still remembered how to corral a spooked horse.

The reins dangled over the saddle horn, well within her grip. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

CeCe grasped the reins and slipped them forward so she’d have a better handle on the horse. “You’re okay.” She reached a hand forward, stroking the soft fur between the horse’s eyes. “You’re okay.”

The horse released a shuddering breath, the panic slipping from its eyes and its breathing slowing.

“There now.” She bent to rest her forehead against the horse’s. “See? That’s not so bad.”

“Are you all right?” came a masculine voice.

She jumped back and looked up, way up into the eyes of the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Huge, with black hair and frosty blue eyes. She smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” A pause before the man snarled, “What in the bloody hell were you thinking?”

Funny.

She’d always pictured her heroes as Scottish and this man definitely was—tall and dark and with a brogue that made her shiver.

It was just that . . . her fantasies didn’t usually curse at her.