Bound

Bound

In 1775, three young indentured servants cross the Atlantic to the New York Colony, hoping for survival in a world already shifting toward revolution. Harry, Caitlín, and Alun find brief refuge along the Hudson River, where new friendships, dangerous loyalties, and forbidden love begin to reshape the lives they thought had been chosen for them.

But the death of a master’s son at sea follows them ashore. When accusations of murder threaten to destroy their fragile freedom, the three companions are forced into a widening conflict where justice is uncertain, safety is never guaranteed, and every choice carries a cost.

Set against the turmoil of the American Revolutionary War, Bound is a richly atmospheric historical thriller of courage, romance, and redemption. Constance Emmett weaves together suspense, multicultural history, and deeply human bonds in a story about love lived in the shadows—and the price of claiming one’s own life in an age determined to deny it.

Discover Bound, a haunting and suspenseful novel of love, loyalty, and survival in Revolutionary America.

Excerpt from the book

Young Richard Lloyd, closer than he knew to meeting his Maker, spoke softly. “They didn’t catch you that night, Harry, they didn’t hurt you?” Richard lay in shadow in the cabin bunk, and Harry sat at the table as their ship, the Sally, sailed out of Bristol Port bound for the American colonies. “I am sorry, Harry, forgive…” Richard’s voice trailed off, and he slept, his breathing quiet, but reeking of imminent decay.

Harry’s seated body yielded to the rhythm of the soft pitch and roll of the ship. His gaze lingered on the amber and mahogany liquids in Richard’s crystal decanters. He chose the middle one and pulled it from the well in the cabin table built to hold glassware. It was pleasurable pouring the liquid into a fine crystal glass, shining in the candlelight. He sniffed it and drank, holding the taste of the unfamiliar liquor in his mouth before swallowing, the warmth of it radiating down through his chest.

Leaning forward, he hissed at the sleeping form of his master, “Your bargain—your pleasure for my freedom—would I have got it, my freedom? Ever? What I got was nearly killed. You oughter be sorry, you bugger.” He turned his head and spat.

Hanging from a beam, the cabin lantern swayed and alternately lit Richard’s masklike face before touching Harry’s wild copper hair with fire.

Sitting back, he remembered that night in the forest in crystalline detail, seared into him by fear. Could it really have been the beginning of Advent, a fortnight before?

With increasing frequency, Master Richard ordered Harry to help catch persistent poachers in the estate’s forest. Once in the dark forest, Richard offered his bargain again: pleasuring one another in return for Harry’s freedom. Leaning into Harry and pushing his broad back against a tree, the rakish Richard whispering, “For it will be a pleasure, you know,” as his hands roamed, unwanted but unbuttoning, touching Harry with insistence. Harry lifted one knee and pressed it against Richard’s abdomen firmly.

The smell of Richard’s hair, scented with orange and bergamot, mixed with the sharp smell of his sweat. As Harry moved his head back, he squeezed Richard Lloyd’s forearms and pushed him back firmly. Trying not to panic, he said, “Now, Master Richard…” but then Harry sensed the man’s attention had left him.

Richard clamped his hand over Harry’s mouth. “Ssh! Listen!”

It was then that Harry heard men calling to one another. The sound grew louder as Harry wondered how many there were.

“Run!” Richard hissed, a second before he disappeared.

Harry ran from the bobbing phalanx of lights, the men’s voices ringing through the dark forest. He tripped and fell, sprang up and bolted like a hunted hare. Panting, he stopped behind a tree, but the lights and the voices gained on him. He ran on, long legs pumping, one hand holding his rough woollen breeches up, his chest burning.