Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
After years of battle and burdens he never asked for, Raff made a simple wish—to be free. Free from war, from duty, and from the complications of love.
The wish is granted… but with a cruel twist.
Now, people look through him as if he doesn’t exist. What begins as a welcome escape quickly becomes a quiet torment. Until one woman looks him in the eye—and sees him.
Ingrid is respected in her village, known for her skill with wool and her sharp wit. She doesn’t believe in curses or nonsense until a stranger stumbles into her life, oddly unnoticed by others, yet impossible for her to ignore. There's something about him that draws her in, something that stirs questions she isn’t sure she wants answered.
Their connection deepens with each shared glance, each lingering moment. But when whispers of witchcraft stir, and a noble’s demands grow dangerous, Ingrid’s world threatens to unravel, and Raff realizes that his so-called freedom may cost him everything he didn’t know he wanted.
Because in the Highlands, even a wish can become a curse, and love may be the only thing strong enough to break it
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PROLOGUE
The crackling campfire cast flickering shadows upon the towering pines, their dark silhouettes stretching toward the starlit sky. The scent of burning wood mingled with the lingering metallic tang of blood and sweat, remnants of the battle waged earlier that day. Victory had been theirs, hard-fought and well-earned, and now, beneath the vast Highland sky, three warriors sat in the hush of the night, the weight of their deeds pressing upon them even as they drank to their triumph.
A chill threaded through the air, the kind that seeped into weary bones after a day spent beneath steel and fury. The ground was damp, autumn’s creeping breath curling mist through the underbrush, where unseen creatures scurried. Owls hooted in the distance, and now and again, the faint rustle of leaves hinted at movement beyond the fire’s glow. The woods held secrets, as they always did, but on this night, they merely listened, bearing witness to the idle musings of men who had danced too often with death.
Declan stretched out his long legs, his boots scuffing against the packed earth, and took a hearty swig from his flask. The firelight caught on the fresh cut along his cheek, a trophy from the day’s battle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and exhaled, his breath a faint ghost in the crisp air.
“Tell me this,” he said, his voice rough but rich with the satisfaction of survival. “If you could have one wish—one thing, granted without question—what would it be?”
Raff, broader than the other two and with a devil’s glint in his eye, let out a low chuckle. He poked at the fire with a stick, sending a shower of embers spiraling upward. “A wish, aye? Well, that’s easy. I’d wish for a life of complete freedom. No battles, no wife clucking over me, no responsibilities. Just me and the wind, coming and going as I please.” He grinned. “A man ought to answer to no one but himself.”
“A selfish wish,” Declan noted, though there was no judgment in his tone.
Raff shrugged. “Mayhap. But I’ve seen too many men shackled by duty, by love, by burdens they do not ask for. Not for me.”
Declan leaned back against a fallen log, rolling his flask between his hands. His dark gaze lingered on the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes. “I’d wish to never have to search for a woman,” he mused. “I tire of the chase, of the endless games. Let them come to me instead—fall at my feet, even.” A slow smile curved his lips. “And only the bonniest ones at that.”
Raff snorted. “That’s a dangerous wish. Women have ways of tangling a man up whether he seeks them or not.”
Declan laughed, lifting his flask in a mock toast. “Then let me be tangled, so long as they come willing.”
“What about you, Rhodes?” Raff asked. “What would you wish?”
Rhodes, the quietest of the three, tilted his head back, considering the stars peeking through the canopy of autumn leaves that had yet to fall. The firelight played over the sharp angles of his face, deepening the shadows beneath his eyes. He did not answer immediately, and when he did, his voice held a weight the others had not. “Power,” he said at last. “I would wish for the power to dominate, so much so that no one would ever dare to confront me. Unbeatable in battle, feared by all, and always victorious.”
Delcan gave a low whistle. “A grand wish, that one.”
“Aye,” Raff agreed. “But what happens when there is no one left to defeat?”
“That’s the sad part,” Rhodes said. “There’s always someone who wants to fight.”