I never intended to claim Moira Kendrick in the rain-lashed pavilion, yet the title hangs on her virgin body and the heir it can breed. Rivals circle my estate, and only her first surrender secures the bloodline.
She yields with defiance that sees past my commands to the scar along my collarbone. I tell myself breeding her is only duty, yet her hidden mark pulls at the fear I have buried deepest.
Tonight the blunt edge of my claim hovers at her untouched entrance while the storm hides what we become. Once the heir is born, what will remain when the council looks elsewhere?
