The rain had not stopped since Orla Avery stepped onto the drive at Taggart Hall, her full hips swaying with that quiet challenge I could not ignore. She holds the registry that secures my title, yet her habit of tucking those damp curls behind her ear only reminds me how much she resists the order I must impose.

Now the study door is shut and the key turns in my hand, my palm resting at her waist. The firelight catches our reflections in the mirror, and I know the discipline I am about to deliver will expose every wound we both hide.

Will it be enough to hold us when the legal threat is gone?