His breath caught in his chest as the carriage pulled to a well-practiced stop before the elegant, vine-wrapped gates. The rising beat of anticipation grew, every sound a flutter, every sight a surging pulse. His hands clenched once against his legs, then relaxed. Only once. Decorum dictated at least a façade of nonchalance. A gloved hand swung the carriage door open as another figure opened the gates. The rider launched...

In the days following her return, Duchess Andrea spent much of her time in her boudoir, the sounds of her pleasure reverberating throughout the entire Château. She appeared at mealtimes with a flushed, sweaty face, or took walks through the grounds with a bounce in her step and a smile permanently beautifying her features. On one particularly stunning day, she spent all morning and afternoon simply strolling through the f...