I told myself Lillian Madigan would change nothing when her carriage drew up at the manor gates under the cool spring light. But from the moment her fingers lingered on the brass keys at the study door, her older authority pulled at the defiance I wear like armor, stirring a hunger I dare not name.

I bite my lip and turn away first, yet the thought of her claiming me rough and possessive in the shadowed storage rooms makes my pulse race with equal parts dread and desire. The estate hangs in the balance, along with the self-respect I pretend to hold. Worse, she might see how much I need to be kept.