The first rule when you’re arranged to marry a gorgeous, dominant Highland lord?
Don’t, under any circumstances, no matter how sinfully tempting he is, fall in love.
...Oops.

If I had it my way, I’d never get married. But then, it’s not up to me at all.

Because the gruff, muscled, gorgeous and powerful Highlander Lord Hamish Ballantyne has decided to claim me as his bride.

I’m determined to resist him. He may be beautiful, and dangerously brooding, and carrying around the shadows of the wars he’s fought in. But I will not be some lord’s property, and I refuse to be “his”.

Except one look into those dark, piercing eyes? One forbidden, pulse-quickening, toe-curling touch from his rough, strong hands? I can refuse to belong to him all I want, but thing is?

…I might already be his.

He speaks to me like no man ever has. He touches me in ways I’ve only dreamed feverishly of. And he promises to claim what can only be claimed once.

And God help me, I’m ready to give it to him.

*All the trope clichés. Lots of plaid. Wildly historically inaccurate. More alpha than you can shake a thistle at. Warning: not responsible for lost or ripped bodices. Reader beware.

As with all my books, this one is safe, with no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.*